The Riddle's Riddle
by KRHviolin
Summary: A mysterious girl with an unknown past is kidnapped by Tom Riddle during his own attack on a Muggle village. She unknowingly possesses a magical object that will aide in his dream to become the greatest sorcerer in the world. T for now, later chapters M.
1. CHAPTER 1: October 30, 1948

**Authors Note:** This is my first fanfic, but I've been reading them and looking at this site for quite a few years now. I'm pretty excited to finally be writing and publishing one, but up until now I haven't written for years. Advice/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated :)

**A little background:** I set this story in 1948, Tom would be 21 (almost 22) and I imagine that by now he has a few followers, though not his ideal group. He is already beginning his search for horcruxes, particularly one from each of the Hogwarts founders. I always wondered why he never had one from Gryffindor, so this is roughly the story of why. I don't want to give away too much of the plot, so just read on and you'll find out :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

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CHAPTER 1: October 30, 1948

Tom Marvolo Riddle stood at the top of a hill overlooking the quaint Muggle village of Lower Thornbrook. As his piercing gaze swept over the buildings and houses, he thought to himself that everything about this town was exceptionally ordinary.

There was nothing different about this Muggle village than all of the others that he'd seen. A small main street with typical Muggle shops was visible near its entrance. Tom could see the vague outline of a church on the outskirts of the village. There were small houses scattered about the town and a few farms and fields surrounding it. It was all very ordinary. In his mind this was the perfect place to attack. If the whole village were wiped out, no one else in the world would think twice about it. It would be just one more insignificant, filthy Muggle settlement gone from the world. Tom smiled cruelly at the thought.

He looked up at the night sky. The moon was full but clouds would float across it every few minutes, making the night even darker. Everything about this night seemed ominous. The village was covered in darkness and the hills surrounding it seemed to stretch for miles with no sign of light, settlement, or hope. He began to twirl his wand idly, staring at the village below, waiting for the others to come.

The first Death Eater appeared by his side, dressed in billowing black robes. The hood was lowered and Tom smirked. Of course it was Desdemona, for she was his most loyal and committed follower. Her black eyes flashed and her mouth twisted itself into a deranged smile as she gazed at him longingly.

"My Lord…" she said, bowing low to him, and then she held out her robe-clad arm.

His long, pale fingers traced lightly over her skin as he pulled up her sleeve until the Dark Mark was exposed. Desdemona shivered slightly, relishing in his simple touch. She knew she would do anything for the Dark Lord, even die for him. She had given him everything; her soul, her memories, her entire future, even her body…

He touched his wand to the mark; it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of his seven followers joined him. A few were old friends from Hogwarts, and the others he had picked up as tramps on the streets of Knockturn Alley. They were the first Death Eaters.

Tom looked around at them; they stood in a circle, murmuring with excitement. This wasn't the first time that Tom thought to himself that this group was a bunch of undeserving, babbling lunatics. Yes, they knew how to torture, kill, and willingly obey his every command, but they lacked the cruel intellect, the thoughtfulness, and the _finesse _that Tom admired so much in other dark wizards. It was a start.

Tom and his followers spent most of their time terrorizing Muggles and practicing dark magic. Even so, they were all virtually unknown in the wizarding world, which was something Tom wished to change with the destruction of this village. But Lower Thornbrook would also serve another purpose to him.

Tom did not know from who or what it came from, but he sensed a strong magical force emanating from this seemingly ordinary village. It was very curious. It was as if something, or someone, had led him here tonight. Out of all of the other insignificant Muggle settlements he could have wiped from existence, he had chosen Lower Thornbrook. As Tom looked down once more at the town, he thought about how privileged they should feel; after all, they were about to be annihilated by Lord Voldemort.

********

Anya Blackburn stretched out her neck uncomfortably, trying to get a better view out of the now broken windows of her room. She was crouched in a corner, her knees hugged to her chest, her body shivering uncontrollably with fear. She heard indescribable, horrific noises of chaos and anarchy on the street outside. There were violent flashes of red and green light every few moments. The whole town seemed to be screaming. It was like a nightmare that was real, that was inescapable. She knew that she was going to die.

In a moment of reflection, she began to think of her life. In her 19 years of living, she had never had a true friend. There was just something strange about her that people didn't like. At school, the other students had avoided her, and in her spare time she toiled in her Aunt Hilda's dress shop. As a result, she saw little of the other town residents and her classmates. Whenever she did have to go out to run errands for her Aunt, she was always told to keep to herself, never speak unless spoken to, and never give anyone a reason to notice her.

Anya didn't know why she had to live this way, but she thought it had to do with the incident that her Aunt Hilda told her about a long time ago: when she was seven years old they were visiting a fabric store and Aunt Hilda wouldn't let her have the pink ribbon she had promised to get her. Anya screamed and cried and as if by magic every ream of fabric in the store caught fire. As Anya realized what was happening, the fire strangely extinguished itself. No one was hurt but Aunt Hilda lost a fabric provider when the store shut down because of the damage. When Aunt Hilda's store suffered, Anya suffered. She was beaten and didn't have any meals for two days. Talk of the strange incident and the strange little girl that caused it spread throughout the town like wildfire. Since then, everyone in Lower Thornbrook had shunned her.

Anya had also never known her parents. Aunt Hilda was her father's sister and made it clear nearly every day to Anya that she thought her mother was the worst thing that ever happened to him. The only thing Anya owned that reminded her of parents was a beautiful, solid gold compass. She was told that it belonged to her mother. Anya had not yet figured out how it worked, for it was not a typical compass. Sometimes the arrow would spin around in circles for hours, or point in a new direction every few minutes, while once it pointed steadily in one direction for a week.

Anya held the compass in her hand. If she somehow survived this nightmare, she would want this compass with her. As she stared at it, she felt as if she had to get it out of Little Thornbrook, as if it needed protection from what was happening around her, as if it would show her which direction to go.

The sounds of death and destruction continued around her, but she still felt a strong impulse to get herself out. At any moment her home could be destroyed; it was not any safer inside than outside. Bravery that she had never felt before spurred her into action and she ran to the side door, flung it open, and stumbled into the alley, her mother's compass clutched in her hand.

Anya didn't run more than twenty feet before a robed figure appeared directly in front of her. It had come out of nowhere! Shocked, Anya fell backwards and before she could move at all, she felt the figure climb on top of her, their strong arms and hands pinning her down. She screamed as rough, callused hands ripped and tore at her dress. She felt her skirt being pushed above her knees. Anya knew what was about to happen and she yelled and fought as hard as she could. In the struggle, her attacker pulled something out from their robes and she heard them mutter something. A flash of red light blinded her and then she was gone…

********

Cyril Helborne stood up and looked at the girl he had just knocked out. He reached down and grabbed the mysterious, golden object from her hand. His dull, beady eyes studied it. It was some sort of Muggle contraption, he knew, but even he could sense the magical force emanating from it. This was something the Dark Lord would be very interested in.

A few blocks away from this incident, Tom Riddle cried out his last "Avada Kedavra" of the night on an older woman. She had been running around frantically, crying out a name.

"Anya! Anya! Where are you?" were her last, tortured words before Tom mercilessly took her life. He stood over her crumpled corpse. _Pathetic woman,_ he thought to himself, _I'm sure your Anya is long dead,_ and he turned on his heel in the opposite direction.

Lower Thornbrook was completely silent now. Tom surveyed the night's work with pride. Every Muggle man, woman, and child was dead, their bodies scattered randomly throughout the town. Every shop on the main street was destroyed. The church was still on fire and houses lay in ashes, burnt to the ground. He smiled smugly as he looked at his watch. _33 minutes…not bad, _he thought.

"My Lord! My Lord!" croaked a black robed figure that ran toward him. Tom's smile disappeared and he folded his arms in front of his chest.

"What is it, Helborne?" Tom said, exasperated. Cyril Helborne was not his most intelligent of Death Eaters, but he was definitely the most deranged. He probably wanted him to see the disgusting body of a Muggle he had exterminated. Helborne was known for adding some special "twists" to his executions.

"I've found something, my Lord. Down there a few blocks…I think you'll find it very curious indeed," said Helborne, slightly out of breath. He gave Tom a sly look, winked, and began running back towards the alley. _This better be worth it,_ Tom thought as he followed Helborne at a brisk walk down the ruined street.

As he rounded the corner into the dark alley, he saw the figure of a woman sprawled out on the dirty pavement. Tom wasn't particularly interested in seeing another mutilated Muggle body, and he gave Helborne a skeptical look.

"Come closer, my Lord! Take a look at this" Helborne whispered as he motioned him to come nearer. Tom walked forward slowly, not taking his eyes off the woman. When he got closer he saw the evidence of Helborne's real intentions, her dress was torn and her skirt was gathered above her knees.

"She's quite a pretty one," Helborne sneered at Tom. He spoke his next words in the most vile, perverted tone, "I thought I'd have a bit of fun with her, if you know what I mean. But then I found something. She's only been knocked out. Look at what I found in her hand, my Lord."

Helborne handed the compass to him. Tom's eyes took on a hungry look. He felt a strong magical force from within it; now he knew that this compass was what he had sensed earlier, what had called him here to attack. He turned the compass over in his hands and he and Helborne gasped at what they saw engraved on the back:

_Godric Gryffindor_

Tom's long fingers traced the ornate letters slowly, his mouth open in shock. He couldn't believe that he had found something so valuable, so essential to his future in a place like this, let alone in the hands of a Muggle. He turned the compass over again and saw that it's arrow was pointing at the girl.

"Good work, Helborne. We'll take her back to Riddle Manor for questioning about this compass. Go join the others and I'll meet all of you very soon. I have to take care of something first," he pocketed the compass. Helborne gave him a twisted smile, nodded, and apparated out of sight. Tom kneeled down to get a better look at her.

Even in the darkness, he could see that she was beautiful. His gaze traveled down her body, which was shamefully open. All sorts of questions crossed his mind as he stared at her. _How did this Muggle become the owner of something so magical? Was she trying to escape with it? Who is she?_ Tom could sense that this woman was not an ordinary Muggle. She knew something, maybe too much.

He took out his wand and waved it over her. At once, the rips in her dress were magically sewn up and her skirt fell down to the proper place. He pocketed his wand and then picked her up, one hand below her back and the other underneath her knees. Together they apparated to Riddle Manor, her body limp in his arms.

As he carried her up the sloping walkway to the majestic mansion, he looked down at her. The darkness of the night would have made it impossible for anyone to see his expression, but it was a look of triumph, of a sick and twisted optimism, of _hunger_.

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_**Well, that's the end of chapter one! I'm already working on the second chapter, hopefully it will be up soon. I hope you enjoyed it, and please review :)**_


	2. CHAPTER 2: Riddle Manor

**Authors Note: **This is chapter 2, and also the last chapter that is T rating suitable. The chapters after this one will become progressively darker and contain explicit sexual content and violence. I will write warnings before every scene like that and I will change the rating when the third chapter is published. All that aside, I hope you enjoy this new chapter! Please review my work if you read it, because this is only the second chapter of my first fanfic and I still think there is a lot more I could learn and improve on. Advice/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated! :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

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CHAPTER 2: Riddle Manor

Anya awoke but didn't open her eyes. She tried to remember who she was, where she was, what had happened the night before. It was all a blur. Then like the striking of a match, the flame of her memory came back to her in what seemed like an instant.

She remembered the horrific screaming, the sounds of death and destruction, the flashing red and green lights; she had barely escaped her ruined home with her mother's compass when an unknown attacker assaulted her. She remembered the terror that consumed her when she was overpowered by him, the helplessness she had felt, the realization of her fate…and then nothing. Now she was here, wherever here was.

Anya finally opened her eyes and was surprised to see that the room was still quite dark. She was lying on a comfortable bed with a rich mahogany frame, dark sheets, and green velvet curtains that were drawn back to give her a view of the room. But it was not the room she noticed; she was shocked to see the dark figure of a man standing at the foot of her bed. Before she could react, a soft voice spoke to her.

"Don't be afraid," he said. Anya sat up a little and looked in the direction of the voice, trying to make out his features. She couldn't see anything, but somehow she knew that this was not the same man from last night.

"Wh-who are you?" she stuttered. Her eyes searched the darkness. She heard footsteps moving away from her, towards somewhere to her left.

"I daresay I could ask you the same question, miss," said the voice in a non-threatening manner. Suddenly a blinding white light filled the room. He had drawn back the thick drapes covering the window. Anya gasped and shielded her face with her arm until her eyes got somewhat used to the light. When she lowered her arm she saw that the man was staring at her.

He was tall and thin with pale skin that strikingly contrasted with his jet-black hair. He stood in front of the window, the brilliant light illuminating his dark figure and penetrating every inch of the room. He continued to stare into her eyes.

Anya had never seen much of men, being raised by her Aunt and spending every spare hour of her day slaving away in the dress shop. These few moments were a new experience for her. No man had ever looked at her like this before, and she had certainly never seen a man as handsome as he. His gaze was not lustful or suggestive, but as his sapphire blue eyes stared into hers, she felt as if he was trying to delve into her mind; he seemed to overpower her with nothing more than a look. She averted her eyes at last, feeling color rising into her cheeks. He looked down to his left, a hint of a smirk visible on his face.

"My name is Tom Riddle," he said, looking up at her once more. In the light, her features were clearer to him. Her long brown hair cascaded over her back in waves. When she turned her face to his once more he noticed that her large eyes were hazel. Her face was very beautiful and had the appearance of one who was mature for their age, who was thoughtful and serious. But in her eyes he could see evidence of a difficult life that was not filled with many joys.

Anya didn't know what to say. She had so many questions, and she still felt overwhelmed and confused by her situation. The light was blinding, and the man, Tom Riddle, was still staring at her. For a few moments she sat there, her mouth trying to form words, her voice trying to make sounds. Her brain felt frozen. As if he read her mind, Tom spoke at last.

"I suppose you want to know why you're here?" he said this as if he wasn't asking her a question, but stating a fact. She closed her mouth and nodded, feeling pathetic for not asking that herself.

"Your village was attacked last night. I was traveling through the countryside this morning when I saw it in ruins. It was a horrible sight," he paused for dramatic effect, forcing his face into a concerned look. "I found you lying in an alley, unconscious. I couldn't leave you in such a predicament, so I brought you back here," Tom inwardly praised his acting skills. _The look on her face suggests that she's buying this tripe_, he thought.

"But as to _why_ you are here…I can only say that it all will become clear to you very soon," he said cryptically. He turned towards the window and looked out at the grounds below. His eyes had taken on the same hungry look. He began to think about how to best handle the situation. He had to gain her trust before anything else.

Anya sat on her bed, lost in her own thoughts. Now that she was conscious and had no injuries, perhaps she could return to Lower Thornbrook soon. Even if it was in ruins, it was human nature for people to adapt to catastrophes. Forgetting about the unsettling words Tom Riddle had just said, she began to imagine her Aunt and neighbors huddled together in the street, taking care of the injured, salvaging goods, creating shelters from the debris, or possibly organizing a group to venture to another city for help. _Not all hope is lost! And this Tom Riddle seems nice enough. Maybe he could help us too, _she thought. A small, hopeful smile appeared on Anya's face and she looked over at Tom; but he was still turned towards the window. When he turned around, her smile disappeared and she quickly looked away, blushing again.

His smirk was much more noticeable now, his eyes and face smug. Tom had always had a strange effect on women, he noticed, but rarely had he encountered one this shy. Most of them threw themselves at him, and over the years he had branded women as predictable, weak, and stupid creatures. He could tell that this girl was different. He was also amused by the fact that she was smiling after all that had happened to her. If she knew what he had in store for her, she'd probably never smile again.

"You still haven't told me your name, miss," Tom said quietly.

"Anya…Anya Blackburn," she said, eyeing him curiously. The confident look on his face, coupled with the fact that she was already blushing, made her face even hotter. Anya was horribly embarrassed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Blackburn," he said. He then walked slowly over to the bed, took her hand in his, and lightly brushed his lips against it. Tom knew that there was no better way to gain a woman's trust than to turn on the charm. Her blushing face and averted gaze told him that, like most women, she was attracted to him. It was working very well. _And with attraction comes trust_, he thought.

"I'd like to give you a tour of Riddle Manor. I'll let you get dressed," he said, eyeing her nightgown-clad body. With those words, he let go of her hand, lingering just long enough to send a message, and walked smoothly out of the room, leaving Anya alone and at the mercy of some entirely new thoughts…

Anya quickly dismissed them, feeling shameful and embarrassed. She had to get dressed anyways, as he'd probably be back soon. She certainly didn't want him walking in on her. Anya began to imagine that possible scenario, and quickly reprimanded herself again when she realized the direction things were taking. _Aunt Hilda always told me that my vivid imagination was a bad thing. Maybe she was right_, she thought.

As she looked around for a dresser, she noticed how luxurious her small room was. An intricately carved vanity, a writing desk with a comfortable armchair, and a beautiful armoire with a floor length mirror were positioned on the wall across from her bed. The western wall was entirely made up of windows that overlooked the manor grounds. Next to her bed was a shelf filled with books and a squashy armchair that looked perfect for reading. For a brief moment Anya thought that she'd never go back to Lower Thornbrook if Tom Riddle let her keep this room, but then she thought of her Aunt and how much people might be suffering there. She felt horrible for almost giving in to a foolish desire for material things.

She opened the armoire and looked inside, gasping at what she saw. Dresses far more beautiful than any she had ever made lined the racks. The colors and fabric were unlike any she had ever seen before, ranging from the most vibrant shades to the darkest hues. Black, silver, dark green, bright orange, turquoise, maroon; dresses in any color and every material she could think of. After a few minutes she finally settled on a nice shade of purple with white lace. She had barely finished putting it on when she heard a knock on the door. Anya quickly looked in the mirror, adjusted the dress, ran her fingers through her hair, and opened the door.

Tom stood at the entrance of her room, his eyes fixed on hers again. He smiled and offered her his arm. Anya uncertainly took it and together they strode into the hallway. Her eyes widened as she took in the luxury of her surroundings. Never before had she seen such attention to detail. From the patterned wallpapers to the smallest doorknobs, everything seemed to be placed and positioned perfectly. Velvet curtains, mahogany doors, plush carpeting, and cushioned furniture were in every room that she saw. Sweeping staircases, graceful sculptures, colorful paintings, and exotic plants accented the splendor that was Riddle Manor. Anya, who was used to living in a small, modest room behind the dress shop, had never seen such a majestic sight. She could do no more than stare in awe at her surroundings, hardly listening to anything Tom said, as he led her through numerous living rooms, bedrooms, guest rooms, studies, and recreational rooms.

"Mr. Riddle, is this manor really yours?" Anya asked bravely. She had her doubts that it was his. He seemed so young; maybe he had inherited it. Almost immediately after she asked it, she wished that she hadn't. She felt it was a stupid thing to say.

"Yes. I suppose one could say that…" Tom said slowly, in a mysterious tone. He was slightly annoyed by her question; it had taken him by surprise. He led her quickly past a painting of his father and grandparents, glaring at their stern, snobbish, almost disapproving faces. Luckily she hadn't seen the painting or Tom's ugly look, as a large vase filled with peacock feathers had distracted her.

"And please, call me Tom. We're close in age, after all. Mr. Riddle sounds much too formal," he said, flashing her a dazzling set of white teeth. Anya blushed again, forgetting about her silly question. However, he inwardly cursed the fact that he'd have to be called by his filthy Muggle father's name by this girl. If he wanted to gain her trust, however, it would have to be this way for a while.

At long last, they arrived back at her room. Anya was a little tired from the walk, as Riddle Manor was quite a vast establishment. Tom politely opened the door for her and she went inside. She turned around, expecting him to follow her in, but he stood at the entrance with a stern look on his face.

"I must ask you, Miss Blackburn, to never leave this room unless I come to get you or I give you permission. You may question this rule, but I can only say that it is in your best interest to obey it. The decision to follow or to break this rule is yours, and therefore the consequences are yours to face," and with that, he turned on his heel and shut the door without another word, leaving Anya alone to take in all that had just happened. Anya looked at the spot where he had been standing moments ago, wondering if Tom Riddle, this charming and handsome man who seemed so polite, had just threatened her.

*******

A beam of moonlight fell across Anya's bed, illuminating the troubled look on the young woman's face. She had no idea what time it was or what city she was in, and she was very hungry. Anya knew she was in Riddle Manor, possibly the most beautiful and elaborate place she had ever seen, but where in the world was Riddle Manor? Her room was just one of what seemed like hundreds. Looking out the window, she felt as isolated as one of the stars shimmering in the night sky.

She had been trying to fall asleep for some time now, since she had given up on receiving dinner. Tom never said he would bring it to her, but she had expected him to. She felt a slight resentment at the situation. From the look of the place, it was unlikely they would have been low on food! Anya became increasingly annoyed as the minutes passed, especially at herself for not being brave enough to look for her own food. After Tom's unsettling words, however, she was quite scared to leave. _The consequences are yours to face,_ she remembered him saying. A shiver went down her spine, which was then followed by a loud growl from her stomach. Her brain seemed to be contradicting itself.

As she tossed and turned in her bed, she began to think of Lower Thornbrook and her Aunt Hilda, wondering where everyone was and what they were doing at this moment. She began to think of her parents, whom she had never known. As she hypothesized how her life might have turned out if they had been alive to raise her, Anya suddenly remembered: _My mother's compass!_

With horror, she realized that she had no idea where it was; her most valuable possession was gone. Anya felt a sudden impulse to look for it, her hunger and fear of Tom Riddle's words wiped from her mind. She started out of bed, tiptoed to the door, and opened it as quietly as she could. She was surprised to see that there was still a light on downstairs, coming from the dining room. Somehow, Anya just knew that the compass was there.

Anya was completely silent as she slowly made her way down the long staircase and through another hallway towards the dining room. The shadows cast on the walls reminded her of flickering flames. She tried not to think of Lower Thornbrook on fire as she progressed down the seemingly endless hallway. At last, she heard soft voices grow louder as she crept up to the door, which was slightly ajar. Anya positioned herself next to it and listened very closely.

"—never expected this from you!" said a rough man's voice.

"It's absurd!" said another unknown voice.

"Absolutely an abomination to our standards, our code of law, my Lord!" said another man.

"I would never question your decisions, my Lord. They haven't even seen her, or felt the things we did! If they were there they would know that this is no ordinary Muggle," said a different man. His voice sent a chill down Anya's spine. Somehow she felt that she had heard it before, or seen the man it belonged to.

Anya was confused and frightened by the conversation. What was a Muggle? And why did these men keep saying "my Lord"? She felt as if something very sinister was going on.

"Up until now, I would have called myself your most loyal follower. I would give you everything in order to ensure your success, my Lord. But now…I just don't understand how you could do this!" said a woman. Her voice was hysterical, screaming. Anya listened on in horror.

"I must agree with Desdemona, my Lord. All of this is highly unusual from you and, I must say, a cause of great concern for all of us," said a rather snobbish man's voice.

"I think an explanation is in order! Can you give one to us, my Lord? Or have you now broken our trust for good?" yelled another angry man's voice.

All of these voices began shouting at once. The room was filled with clamor. Anya heard chairs scraping, the sounds of a heated argument, a wailing woman, and then:

"Silence," said a familiar soft voice. Anya had to cover her mouth to stop herself from crying out in shock. It was Tom Riddle.

"How dare you question your Lord," he said icily, and the room fell absolutely silent. "I, who was _merciful_ enough to rescue all of you from your pathetic situations and bring you here. I, the heir of Salazar Slytherin himself!" a thick curtain of guilt seemed to descend over the room. No one dare spoke. For a long minute, there was complete silence.

"Surely, you didn't think I was going to keep a filthy Muggle here without a good reason for doing so? No. Look at this, you unworthy fools, and then tell me how unwise my decision was," he said venomously. There was a pause as he withdrew something from his robes. Anya heard the clatter of an object being placed on a table, followed by low murmuring.

"My Lord, what exactly is that?" said a man's voice Anya had heard before.

"This, my friends, is the compass of Godric Gryffindor himself," Tom said with a flourish. The group gasped in awe. It sounded as if it was being passed around the room, and Anya had to force herself to stay put. Her eyes narrowed at the thought of these strangers defiling her mother's compass with their greedy hands, possessing the only object that could prove that she ever had parents.

"What does this mean, my Lord?" said the woman in amazement.

"This means that I will soon become stronger than ever before," There was a hush as the Death Eaters were struck by the ambition and power that emanated from their Lord. "After the attack last night, I discovered this compass in the Muggle girl's hand. In order to discover its powers, I need her here. I must use any means to find out what they are. She is no ordinary Muggle, she knows something…maybe too much," he said.

"My Lord, what if someone from that village comes looking for her?" said another man.

"Lower Thornbrook, the village in question, was entirely wiped from existence. There were no survivors, I made sure of it," said Tom, sounding satisfied with himself.

Anya collapsed to the floor, unable to stifle the horrified scream that erupted from within her. At once the dining room door was thrown open. A wild-looking woman with glittering black eyes and tangled, dirty-blonde hair emerged, holding what looked like a long, wooden stick in her hand. She stared down at Anya with a murderous look.

"This filthy Muggle bitch has been listening the whole time!" she bellowed, her teeth gnashing together, her eye twitching. The rest of the group quickly crowded around Anya in a tight circle.

She had never seen a group of people so dark and twisted. Many had strange, deformed features and bodies. Their faces seemed devoid of feeling, their sneers and smirks were absolutely vile. Tom Riddle suddenly emerged from the darkness, the crowd instantly parting and growing silent as he made his way towards her. He looked down at her, his sapphire blue eyes showing no sign of feeling as Anya's tear-filled eyes gazed up at him. He knelt down and helped her to her feet slowly.

The rest of the night was a blur to Anya. She vaguely remembered the jealous and angry look on the woman's face as he led her away from the wild crowd. Somehow she was led back to her room, and somehow she was on her bed again, writhing and sobbing in the darkness as the door was closed quietly behind her. Before Anya fell into a sleep filled with inescapable nightmares, she felt as if her whole world had collapsed beneath her, as if she was now falling through darkness dense and never-ending. She felt isolated, hopeless, and now utterly _alone_.

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**That does it for chapter 2! Thank you very much for reading and please review! I would greatly appreciate it :)**


	3. CHAPTER 3: The New Plan

**Author's Note (PLEASE READ): **This is chapter three of my story, and you'll notice that it is significantly longer than the other two, but I just felt like a lot needed to happen in this chapter. Please take note that this chapter is **M for a reason.** It contains explicit sexual content, you have been warned! All that aside, please review this story if you read it. Any advice/constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated by me, because I still feel like I have a lot to learn and improve on. Thanks so much, and I hope you enjoy this new chapter! :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

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CHAPTER 3: The New Plan

During the next three days at Riddle Manor, Anya felt as if she only half existed. With the curtains drawn, the lights out, the door shut, and the black satin sheets of the bed covering her body, it was easy for her to disappear into a world that consisted of only her darkest thoughts. She felt as if she was trapped in the never-ending maze that was her mind. No matter which path she took, the ending was always…dead. Or death. Why should she still live when she had nothing left?

Her only world was destroyed. There was no dress shop, no Aunt Hilda, no Lower Thornbrook anymore. _There were no survivors, I made sure of it_, he had said. _Him_. Tom Riddle. He and those people had destroyed her life…those monstrous people that had crowded around her, pointing, laughing, and staring at her suffering. The compass, which had been the only guiding force in her life, was also gone. Tom Riddle had that too. He seemed to have everything: her memories, her future, and most likely the rest of her life.

Anya rolled over towards the window, her eyes reluctantly opening. The drapes were closed, but still the tiniest sliver of white light could be seen. In a sudden impulse, she pulled herself out of bed and walked sluggishly towards the window. She opened the curtains slowly, allowing her eyes to get used to the brightness of the day outside. She looked down at the ground below her and saw that the fall from her window would easily be enough to end her suffering. Anya did not need to think twice about what to do, for she felt as if there was nothing left to live for. She opened the window, stepped onto the ledge, and took a deep breath. She braced herself to jump, ready to end her miserable life, when something extraordinary happened.

A beautiful white dove flew into her room; it had come out of nowhere. It began running into the walls and furniture, flying erratically in circles until it eventually became tangled up in her green bed hangings. Anya carefully stepped off the ledge of the window and ran to help the poor creature. She untangled the hangings and freed the dove from its prison. It had stopped moving and seemed calmer as she held it gently in her hands. She felt its warmth, its soft feathers, and its heart beating. The dove turned its snow-white face and looked at her with beautiful brown eyes. Anya smiled for the first time in three days.

She walked over to the open window and carefully released the dove. It flew away in a flurry of beautiful white feathers, its wings beating quickly. Anya watched it until it disappeared into the distance and she could no longer see it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air, allowing it to fill her up. She then opened her eyes and observed the view outside her window more closely.

For a fall day, it was remarkably clear outside. The sky was a brilliant blue, and not a cloud was in sight. There was a slight breeze outside and she heard trees blowing in the wind. As Anya looked down at the grounds, colors seemed to be magnified and every flower and bush seemed to be more beautiful than ever before. She stood for a long time, admiring the view and letting her senses take over. She had never felt so alive.

Her encounter with the dove, as short as it was, had completely changed Anya's outlook on her situation. The dove had been lost, confused, and trapped like her, but eventually it had found its way out. It had only needed a little help. Anya thought that perhaps there was a way out of this situation, that perhaps not all hope was lost. Maybe she just needed a little help, or a push in the right direction. Even though many things from her past were gone, she would always have herself, and her own choices to make. _At least I have my thoughts…At least I know who I am, and I only belong to myself_.

*******

Tom Riddle needed another plan. He sat at a desk in one of the many studies of Riddle Manor, twirling his raven feather quill with one hand while his head rested in the other one. A blank piece of parchment lay below him with the day's date, November 4, 1948 sitting squarely in the upper-right hand corner. Tom was frustratingly unable to write this very important letter, because other things were distracting him.

It was that Muggle girl, Anya Blackburn. He had not seen her for three full days, for she had locked herself up in her room. _Undoubtedly disturbed by what she overheard,_ he thought. Tom suddenly put down his quill, his eyes narrowing in malice. His plan had failed. She was not supposed to have overheard that conversation. In his mind, the plan had been perfect: he assumed the part of the hero who rescued her from death; she believed him. He became the charming, irresistible Tom Riddle who gave her a taste of luxury; she began to trust him. Then, it had all been ruined.

Tom knew that there was very little chance of gaining her trust after what had happened. His plan would have to be altered; something would have to give. Tom supposed he could always do the usual business: torture the information he needed out of the girl and then dispose of her when she was no longer useful. But sometimes that could be _so_ boring. It was nearly always the same every time, and after they were dead it was incredibly anti-climactic; the thrill of the chase was gone. Suddenly, Tom had a stroke of genius. His handsome face twisted itself into an extraordinarily evil smile. _No, this time it will be different,_ he thought.

As he began to formulate the new plan in his mind, Tom realized he had completely forgotten about the letter he was supposed to be writing. Resolving to take care of business before pleasure, he picked up his quill again and began to write. For many long minutes, no other sound could be heard except the quiet scratching of his quill. At long last he put the quill back in its holder, perusing the letter he had just written, the emerald green ink still shining.

_Dear Mr. Borgin,_

_I hope this letter doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, as we haven't spoken in a few months. I'm writing to request a meeting with you, and as soon as possible. I must speak with you in person about a very important matter that has come up. I can't reveal too much in this letter, in case it is somehow intercepted, but this is something I know you will be very interested in indeed. I have found something extraordinary and powerful, something entirely different from anything I have ever seen before; but I need your help. The reason why will become clear to you when I see you. I hope to receive your owl soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Tom Riddle_

It was perfect, cryptic enough to make Mr. Borgin wonder about what the "very important matter" could be, but not so vague as to diminish his interest in it. Tom would send that letter later, however, as he now had something else to take care of: the new plan.

He pulled out another piece of parchment and began to write again. Tom thought more carefully about this one, taking his time to craft perfectly worded sentences that hid his true intentions. He smirked as he finished the small note, folding it in half and placing it into his pocket. It would not be put into use until later, for something very important. Tom stood up from the desk and pushed in his chair, feeling quite accomplished. As he set off down the hallway to Anya's room, the plan began forming perfectly in his mind. Tom knew nothing could stop him now. After all, he had always liked a challenge.

*******

Anya jumped when she heard a knock on her door. She quickly glanced in the mirror and was surprised at herself when she saw fear in her eyes. She shook her head as if to erase the expression from her face and looked defiantly at the door. _What do I have to be afraid of?_ she told herself reassuringly. She thought of her encounter with the dove, remembering how it had affected her. She suddenly felt much braver, as if she could accomplish anything. Anya took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to open the door.

Tom Riddle stood at the entrance to her room, wearing a charming smile on his face. Anya's stomach lurched, and she did not return his smile. She noticed that his hands were suspiciously behind his back. She knew it could have only been him knocking, yet she still felt surprised to see him there. All feelings of bravery and accomplishment quickly died.

"Good evening, Miss Blackburn," he said smoothly. Anya inclined her head back at him stiffly.

"I do hope that everything has been going well for you these last few days. You seemed to mysteriously disappear, and I must say…I was more than a bit worried about you," he said softly. Anya defiantly stared back at his smug face. This time he wasn't going to fool her. She straightened herself up to her full height, trying to project an air of confidence, but to no avail. He towered over her form, his eyes burning into hers; his smirk grew wider. Anya mentally conceded defeat, her eyes lowering.

"I give you permission to leave your room now, whenever you'd like. That's all I came to tell you," he said, amused by her attempts to intimidate him. With that, he left as suddenly as he had come.

Anya slammed the door behind him, making no attempts to hide her frustration and anger as she threw herself onto the bed, her head in her hands. She didn't understand why he affected her that way. Just moments ago she had had one of the most beautiful experiences of her life, and now she was feeling just as horrible as before. Whenever she had an encounter with him, she became tongue-tied, nervous, and insecure. No matter how hard she tried, no matter how positive she tried to think, she could not stand up to him. There was something about him that was not normal, and it frightened her so much that she could do nothing but submit to him.

Anya decided that she'd rather be imprisoned in this room forever than to see Tom Riddle again.

*******

Anya shifted uncomfortably in her bed, listening to the sound of twelve deep bells striking midnight. The clock was somewhere far away, in one of the many rooms of Riddle Manor, but the sound rang loudly in her ears, keeping her awake.

She was already restless enough, as she was still thinking about her earlier encounter with Tom Riddle. Anya tried unsuccessfully to force her thoughts about him out of her mind. For at least another hour she tossed and turned, her frustrated mind wandering infinitely. At last, she could take no more of it and she quickly got out of bed. She thought that if she took a little walk she'd eventually feel tired enough to fall searched in the dark for her desk, finding it and then feeling around for her candles and matches. Eventually a candle was lit and placed into a candleholder. She retrieved a long white robe from the armoire and fastened it over her nightgown, grabbed the candleholder, and set off through her door.

The hall was pitch black, the light from her candle barely penetrating the darkness. She walked to her right for a few minutes until she found a staircase that led to an upper floor. Anya had not walked these stairs before, even when Tom was giving her a tour of the manor a few days ago. She normally would have avoided an unknown situation like this, but tonight she felt in the need of a little adventure. She gathered up her robe and began to walk carefully up the stairs, holding the candle in front of her body so she could see her feet.

After successfully ascending the stairs, Anya began to walk to her right when she suddenly stopped. She had heard a strange noise coming from somewhere nearby. She paused to listen, and was shocked when she heard another noise, a low moan, followed by a gasp which was unmistakably from a woman. Anya felt a strong impulse to investigate, even though she knew that she shouldn't. With every step she took she told herself not to go through with it, but soon enough she was at the door where the sounds were coming from, her hands shaking slightly. Surprisingly, the door was open a few feet, and Anya cautiously looked into the dark room. What she saw was such a shock that she nearly dropped her candle.

The moonlight that illuminated the bed clearly showed the outlines of two figures making love, their bodies entwined like snakes. The man was on top, thrusting into the woman below with vigor, his hands pinning down her arms as she writhed and moaned beneath him. Anya couldn't tear her eyes away, realizing with horror that the woman was the one she had seen three days ago, whose wild appearance had frightened her so much, and that the man above her was…Tom Riddle.

Although she only gazed at them for a few seconds in real time, to her it lasted an eternity. The woman must have noticed the change in the light from Anya's candle, and she jerked her head towards the door. Anya did not know what her own expression was, but when the woman looked at her, she saw her face turn from surprised, to furious, then to smug. With the woman's haughty expression etched in her mind, Anya fled the scene as quickly as she could.

Tom looked down at Desdemona and noticed that she was looking not at him, but towards the entrance to the room. He stopped his motions and glanced at the door, seeing no one there. He quickly pulled out of her, much to her protest, and ran to the hallway, just seeing Anya's robe glide out of sight down the stairs. So she had seen them… He smirked, imagining with amusement what thoughts could possibly be running through her mind.

"My Lord, _please_!" whined Desdemona. He whipped around and shot her a spiteful look. At once she stopped whining, her face was suddenly fearful, and that only aroused him even more. He smiled cruelly at her and quickly pounced back onto the bed, pinning her down with his weight and engulfing her mouth with his own.

Soon enough, their encounter was finished. As usual, he left the scene quickly, drawing his cloak around him and walking briskly back to his own room. He felt no attachment to Desdemona whatsoever, but she had come in handy when he needed her. Being the only woman Death Eater, and having taken her away from her horrible life as a prostitute on Knockturn Alley, it had been easy enough to seduce her, and now she was practically his slave. Tom thought amusedly about the possible rivalry that could emerge between Anya and Desdemona; that is, if it all went according to plan.

Tom began to mentally compare the two women. It was like comparing a crow to a dove. Desdemona was dark, impure, and twisted while Anya was fair, innocent, and, he could tell, good-hearted. Anya was certainly much more of a prize than Desdemona, a prize for the annihilation of Lower Thornbrook and the discovery of Gryffindor's compass. As his prize, she was something to be spoiled, her purity corrupted, and her mind submissive to his whims. A future slave…

Tom realized he was beginning to get carried away. After all, she was a filthy Muggle, no better than the rest of their disgusting brood. But was she? Whenever he was in her presence, he felt something emanating from within her that he had never sensed from any other Muggle. There was something different about her, he knew, but what was it? Hopefully, he would find out soon enough, if everything went according to the plan.

_Yes, the plan,_ Tom thought. Now that he was thinking about things more rationally, Tom realized that he was glad that Anya had seen him and Desdemona. If anything, it increased the chances of his plan implementing itself successfully. He would do it tomorrow, he decided, his face satisfied as he observed his handsome features in the mirror next to his dresser. For a brief moment, his eyes burned scarlet.

*******

Anya had been studying the small note in her hand for the past half an hour. She had found it in her room late that afternoon after she had come back from bathing.

_Dear Anya,_

_I know that you have many questions. For these past few days, you have been kept in the dark, and for that I am deeply sorry. I desire to make things clear for you; you should not have to continue to be subjected to this. Please have dinner with me tonight._

_Sincerely,_

_Tom Riddle_

The handwriting was impeccable, with long, sweeping, and intricately written emerald green letters. The few well-crafted sentences that were written on the small piece of parchment had such a strange effect on her. The brevity of the note surprised her, and yet she felt as if there were a hidden meaning to his words. She turned her attention to the parcel placed neatly in the center of the bed. The note had been placed on top of it, and she had not yet opened it. Anya was curious as to what could possibly be inside. Knowing Tom Riddle, it could be anything. Anya reluctantly opened the parcel, her eyes widening in surprise.

Inside it was an incredibly beautiful dress. She pulled the sweeping fabric slowly out of the box, another note falling out in the process. She quickly opened the note, noticing it was also written in Tom Riddle's handwriting.

_If you accept, please wear this dress tonight._

She looked more closely at the dress. It was the deepest color black she had ever seen, even darker than the sheets on her bed, and the material was of the smoothest satin. It was far from modest, as there were no straps, and the v-neck line was very low. The skirt classily flared out at the bottom. An elegant pair of black high-heeled shoes was also included in the parcel, which was meant to accompany the dress.

Anya felt like her head was spinning. The note was intriguing, cryptic, and it certainly enticed her to accept his proposal. The dress only sweetened the deal, and she began to remember the last time she had seen Tom Riddle…and how incredibly handsome he had looked. _But he destroyed your world! _said a foreboding voice in her head. Anya tried to cast that aside, yet it was true. He had admitted it himself when she had eavesdropped on him. She should never have dinner with a monster like him!

But her mind kept remembering the note. He had said he was going to make things clear to her, and that he was genuinely sorry that she'd been kept in the dark. Maybe there were some things going on that she could not comprehend just yet. What if there was a reason all this had happened? Should she jump to conclusions so quickly? Perhaps, she had caught him in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Anya glanced out the window; the sun was setting, casting an eerie blood red light into the room. She knew that he'd be knocking at her door soon, to see if she had accepted. With one last look at the note, Anya made up her mind to give him another chance and began to undress.

As she put on the sleek dress, she was afraid that it would be too big for her, as she could step into it quite easily, but as soon as she pulled it up, something interesting happened. The fabric seemed to tighten around her, conforming perfectly to every curve of her body. Somehow, the zipper seemed to have already been zipped up, although Anya was sure she had unzipped it in order to step into the dress. She gazed at herself in the full-length mirror; she had never looked more beautiful.

The darkness of the dress contrasted stunningly with her skin, making her look even paler. The paleness did not look unhealthy, however, but it was as if her skin was glowing. The skirt of the dress trailed regally behind her, the satin swishing as she walked. She blushed as she noticed that the neckline of the dress gave her substantial cleavage that she didn't know she had. Although Anya was somewhat embarrassed, she had never felt more like a woman in her life.

She slipped on the shoes and walked over to the armoire, eventually finding a beautiful black and silver barrette for her hair and some make-up that would compliment the dress. She brushed, applied, smudged, and reapplied until she thought she looked perfect, and then stood back to view herself in the mirror.

Her eye make-up was in dark hues, but it accentuated the soft hazel color of her eyes. Her eyelashes had already been noticeable, but with the black mascara it made them incredibly long; her eyes looked larger and more mysterious than ever. Her lips were painted with a deep crimson lipstick, her cheeks shimmering with blush. Her wavy brown hair was drawn back in an elegant bun with the barrette glittering at the top of it. Suddenly she heard a quiet knock on the door. Anya didn't hesitate to answer it, knowing who it was already. Her heart beat quickly and her body quivered with nerves as she slowly opened the door.

Tom Riddle stood behind the opening of the doorway, and was surprisingly not wearing his usual smirk. His face was quite serious; it looked as if he was trying to suppress a reaction to something. She noticed him staring intently at the dress, and she saw his eyes narrow a fraction. She looked at him uncomfortably, waiting for him to speak. His sapphire blue eyes met hers, and at once he gave her a captivating smile.

"I'm glad to see that you've accepted my invitation. You look incredibly beautiful, Anya," he said quietly. He bowed slightly, took her hand, and kissed it, his eyes never leaving hers. Anya felt color rise familiarly to her cheeks. He had never called her by her first name before. He offered her his arm and they set off through the dark, candle-lit hallways.

The walk was completely silent; Anya was too nervous to say anything, and Tom was focused on his own thoughts. The plan needed to be executed perfectly, for it was very unlikely that she could be charmed a third time. One single mistake meant the end of all that he had worked toward so far.

"Tom…where are we going?" said Anya when she noticed that they had walked right past the dining room.

"We'll be having dinner in my parlor tonight. Since it's just the two of us, it'll be much more intimate," he spoke with a flourish. Her grip on his arm tightened.

After a few more minutes of wandering the numerous hallways, Tom finally stopped them in front of a beautiful set of mahogany double doors. He opened them for Anya, allowing her to walk in first, and she laid eyes on the small but luxurious parlor.

There was a small but intricately carved dining table was situated in front of a beautiful marble fireplace, with two cushioned chairs on either side. A fire had already been lit and was flickering quietly in the darkness. Besides the glowing orange light from the fireplace, there were a few scattered candles lit on the walls. However, the room was mostly shrouded in darkness, and Anya could not make out the other pieces of furniture in the room. It was as if the table was meant to illuminated, but isolated from everything else.

Tom pulled out the chair for Anya and she sat down, noticing that their dinner was already served for them. A spread of luxurious dishes was placed carefully across the table; from the finest cuts of meat to vegetables she had never seen before, fancy garnishes and salads, classic puddings and potpies, and a variety of fine wines. Anya realized that she could not remember the last time she had eaten, and she had certainly never eaten such decadent food before. The only thing she wanted to do now was eat this wonderful dinner. She didn't care about anything else in the world, and as she stared longingly at the spread, she didn't notice that Tom Riddle was staring at her just as hungrily.

"You must be starving, Anya. Please help yourself," he said. He no sooner finished those words than Anya began to serve herself quickly, sampling each of the dishes. He observed her eat for a while, Anya taking no notice of him. He could tell that she was still trying to hold back her extraordinary appetite as she daintily ate with small bites; he supposed she didn't want to appear too much like a pig to him, even though her hunger must be overwhelming her.

His eyes roved slowly over her dress, noticing the way it fit perfectly to her curves. Her bare, pale shoulders seemed to glow in the firelight, and the shadows of her cleavage enticed him. She was not the Anya he had seen before; she looked like a dark, seductive goddess. Tom continued to stare hungrily at her as she ate, for he no longer had an appetite for food.

As Anya's hunger began to wear off, she became aware of Tom's piercing stare. She looked up at him for a few seconds, feeling uneasy when he did not look away. There was an alluring glint in his sapphire blue eyes, and she could see the flames of the firelight flickering in them. Her Aunt Hilda had told her once about the stares of men, and how deceiving they could be, but those warnings escaped Anya now. She felt transfixed by his gaze, his eyes told her so much and so little at the same time. She longed to know what he was thinking, and what his intentions were.

In this odd light, he looked more handsome than ever. His wavy jet-black hair was cut short and parted neatly to the side, a wave falling gracefully over the left side of his forehead. The flickering flames emphasized the slight hollowness of his cheeks, the planes of his face, the high cheekbones and strong jaw. At long last, he broke the silence.

"Is there anything you wish to ask me, Anya? I'm sure you must have many questions," he took a sip of wine, his eyes not leaving hers. It was true; there were many things she could ask him. She bit her lip, deciding that she should get straight to the point.

"Why am I here?" she said meekly. He put down his goblet, leaned closer to her, and smiled mysteriously.

"There's so much you don't yet know, Anya. There's so much I could tell you. And yet…I'm not sure how you would handle it," he chuckled. Her eyes flashed defensively. She looked at him indignantly, as if to say that she _could_ handle whatever he had to tell her.

"Have strange things ever happened to you when you've been upset, Anya? Have you ever desired something so much, and found it to be yours very soon? Have you ever seen things that no one else could?" he paused. "Do things ever seem to happen…like _magic?_"

Anya stared back at him, not blinking, intrigued by his words. Her mouth opened slightly. _How did he know?_ She looked down at her hands that were shaking slightly. Tom's smirk widened.

"You are not alone, Anya. I, too, share these things with you, and so do many others. You may have thought yourself strange, abnormal your whole life, but you are not, my dear" she looked at him intensely. Somehow, she knew what he was going to say.

"Magic _exists_, Anya," he was leaning across the table now, his face a few inches from her own, his eyes burned into hers.

"You are a witch, I could sense it when I first saw you," he said, sitting back in his seat, "and I am a wizard…that compass you possess is a magical object. You know this as well as I," Anya knew it was true, for this compass was never like any of the other ones she had seen. Its behavior had always fascinated her. She also did not doubt Tom's words, but all of this came as a great shock to her. And yet, somehow she had always known this; she was different…she was a _witch_.

"And now, Anya, I am the one who has a few questions for _you_. How did you, a witch raised as a Muggle, come by this compass?" he asked, bringing his long-fingered hands together in front of his chest.

"I-I've always had it, Mr. Riddle, since I can remember," she said uncomfortably. She felt as if he was beginning a sort of interrogation. "I was told by my Aunt Hilda, who raised me, that it belonged to my mother. I never knew her, or my father. They died when I was a baby," Tom raised a well-groomed eyebrow. Anya briefly wondered if she should tell him this much so soon. But for some odd reason, she felt an attachment to him, now that he had told her exactly what she was. It was as if she had never known her own identity until now.

Tom thought about what she had said. If that compass had belonged to her mother, then that meant that her mother had been a witch. And if Anya had been raised as a Muggle by her Aunt, then that meant that her father must have been a Muggle as well. Anya was a half-blood, with a witch mother and a Muggle father…like him. He stared at her intently.

"Please call me Tom," he flashed his dazzling white teeth. "I'd like to know more about you, Anya. How old are you?" he said pleasantly.

"Nineteen," she said. Tom smirked. The plan was unfolding quite well. She was becoming much more comfortable with him now. Soon he'd have her willingly revealing all of her knowledge to him. The corners of his mouth twitched in anticipation.

"If you don't mind me asking, Tom, how old are you?" Anya said uncertainly. She had always wondered.

"I'm twenty-one; twenty-two in less than two months," he smirked. "But, my dear, let's get back to business. You must know exactly how this compass works…" his eyes took on a hungry look and he leaned forward in anticipation. Anya paused, unsure of what to say.

"Well…no. I don't, honestly. I don't think my Aunt ever knew, either. My mother left no note behind with the compass. But the arrow is quite strange; its movements are very erratic, there's never a pattern to them, but it must point to something significant…" she trailed off, looking fearfully at Tom's face. For a moment he had looked absolutely furious; she could have sworn that she saw a read gleam in his eyes. But now, his face was calm, only a little disappointed, and then he smiled at her again. She felt as ease. _It must have just been the light from the fire_, she thought.

"Thank you, Anya. That is quite useful to know. I appreciate your cooperation," he said matter-of-factly. Suddenly, he stood up from the table and walked slowly over to her, offering her his arm again.

"Shall we?" he said, giving her a look that he knew would have made any woman swoon. Anya cleared her throat, blushing slightly.

"Of course," she said softly, and they set off through the parlor and back through the hallways to her room.

The atmosphere was different between them as they walked. Tom knew she was lying to him; she must know more about the compass, otherwise she wouldn't have tried to escape from Lower Thornbrook with it. Yet, this didn't upset him as much as he thought it would. Overall, he was pleased with how the plan was working; so far it was a success. Now, all that was left was the very last part of the plan…he smirked in anticipation. Anya, in the meantime, was feeling different than she had ever felt before. She was consciously aware of Tom's step, his breathing, and the feeling of his arm as she held it. She wanted to turn her head and look at his handsome features once more, as she knew the night was quickly coming to a close, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

As they reached her room, she felt frustrated at herself for not interacting with him further. She walked quickly into the dark room and turned to say good night to him, when she noticed with shock that he was following her in, and he was closing the door behind them…

She stood in the dark room, her senses heightened. She heard him walking to her left, towards the window, and he opened the curtains, revealing the shining night sky. He turned his face to hers, smiling mysteriously. She stared at him as he walked towards her, getting closer each second. Soon their faces were only a few inches apart, she felt his breath on hers, the heat emanating from their bodies.

"That dress you are wearing…it belonged to my mother. Well, at least that's what the people at the orphanage told me. Since it was her most valuable possession, she left it to me, they said. I never thought I'd have much use for a dress, but it looks _ravishing_ on you," Tom said this well thought out line in barely more than a whisper. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers.

Anya's body stiffened at the contact, although it had been what she wanted. He kissed her slowly and chastely at first. They embraced, his arms enveloping her possessively as he deepened the kiss. His long fingers trailed slowly up her spine to the nape of her neck and she shivered at his touch. He broke away from the kiss and fixed her with his handsome stare, removing the barrette and watching as her brown hair fell down in waves on her bare shoulders. He slowly backed her against the wall and began to kiss her again.

Tom knew that he was an expert at this; he could easily come off as passionate if he wanted to, although he never meant any of it or felt anything towards another person. He prided himself on being able to charm anyone he needed to. He would easily seduce anyone if it meant that it would further his aspirations somehow, and all of this was part of the plan. If he could successfully seduce Anya, she would only feel closer to him, and in turn the bond would deepen; she would trust him even more. Seduction would only help his chances of eventually seizing that compass.

Tom caressed her bare shoulders and neck, continuing to kiss her. She gasped as his left hand trailed down her cleavage and found her right breast; he used this opportunity to insert his tongue deeply into her mouth. His mouth engulfed hers as both of his hands now covered her breasts, his thumbs teasing the erect nipples through the fabric. He began to gently kiss her neck, sometimes nipping and licking the soft skin, Anya moaning softly as she felt his breath on her ear.

He pulled away from her and his gaze traveled over her body. Although Tom knew that seduction wasn't necessary, it helped that Anya was beautiful, and even he desired to possess her.

Anya watched as he eyed her body hungrily and she blushed, feeling shamefully enticed by their encounter so far. She had never felt like this before, having never been with a man, and she was both scared of and longing for something more. He pulled out a long, wooden stick from the pocket of his dark suit and she gasped. He chuckled.

"It's only a wand, my dear. All witches and wizards should have one. Don't be afraid, Anya" he said seductively, and with a flick of his wand, her dress fell from her shoulders onto the floor. She cried out in shock as the cool air hit her exposed body, but before she could do anything, Tom was upon her again, his hands beginning to explore her more thoroughly.

As his tongue invaded her mouth, Anya shivered and gasped as his fingers slowly caressed her right thigh. She squirmed slightly against him but his grip was quite strong on her. She moaned as he began to gently rub her through the fabric of her underwear. She felt herself quivering from his frustratingly simple touch, wetness pooling between her thighs. Suddenly, he swiftly tore off her underwear and pushed her down onto the bed.

Anya was shocked by his sudden roughness, while Tom was aroused by the emerging fear in her eyes. He stood over her naked form, quickly removing his jacket and loosening his tie. Anya watched, frozen, as he began to slowly unbutton his crisp, white dress shirt. As he bent down to remove his shoes and socks, Anya's desire for him began to fade into fear. She knew there was no turning back; he was going to take her.

Anya stared wide-eyed at his erection through his sleek, black trousers. She watched as his long, pale fingers hovered over the zipper; he wanted to see her reaction to him. He gazed lustfully into her eyes as he slowly unzipped his trousers and brought down his undergarments with them, unleashing the evidence of his desire. Anya gasped, her eyes wary of him; she had never seen a man naked before and the length and hardness of him surprised her.

Tom slowly crawled on top of her, his eyes darkened with lust, never leaving hers. As he began to kiss her again, Anya forgot about her fears and her desire for him returned with full force. She instinctively pressed herself against him, her back arching and her body rubbing against his wantonly. As her tongue began to fight for dominance with his, Tom moaned, shocked and aroused by her unexpected actions, and he began to slowly kiss his way down her neck and chest. Anya cried out as he took an erect nipple into his mouth, gently licking, sucking, and biting the soft skin. She was now considerably wet, and her hips began moving, her body craving some type of friction down there. Tom noticed her reaction to his ministrations and he moved his hand down to gently circle her clit with his thumb. Anya clutched at his back, her body shivering and writhing as he took her other nipple into his mouth, giving it the same treatment, while his thumb constantly circled her clit with varying pressure.

He stopped kissing her breasts, but continued to work her with his hand as he sat up slightly to look at her. The hazel color of her eyes was darkened with lust, her eyes hooded slightly. She gasped and panted as the pleasurable sensations made her body react in ways she couldn't control. Tom smirked as he slowly inserted a long, pale finger inside of her, moaning at her wetness. Anya shuddered as he began to gently move his finger in and out of her. He stared into her eyes, watching her facial expressions change as he teased and stretched her opening, preparing her for him. Suddenly he removed his hand, tasting her essence on his fingers as she watched. Tom smirked and leaned down to her ear.

"You taste delicious," he whispered. Anya moaned softly. She couldn't believe that she was doing this, sharing herself with another man, allowing him to explore her most intimate areas. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt him spread her legs gently, his body lying on top of hers. Her eyes closed and she moaned as Tom rubbed against her opening, gently teasing her with his length. She was drenched there, her skin swollen, and she arched her hips into his, her body speaking for itself. Tom could take the enticement no longer, and he swiftly plunged into her.

"_Anya_…" he whispered roughly into her ear as he began to movie slowly in and out of her. Anya's back arched at the pain, and she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Tom moaned loudly at the feeling of her warmth and wetness tight around his cock. He brought one hand below her back, bringing her into him at a steeper angle, stimulating her even deeper than before. Anya finally began to feel the familiar pleasurable sensations again, and she gasped sharply as Tom began to rub her clit at the same time. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, drawing him in even deeper, submitting to him fully.

He began to move faster within her and Anya felt the friction building up and up. Their bodies were one, their breath quick and eager, the heat almost unbearable. Tom suddenly pulled himself out of her, and then quickly thrust deeply inside her, and that was enough to bring her over the edge. She cried out his name sharply, her entire body convulsing and shaking underneath him. The feeling of Anya contracting and squeezing his length, pulling him in even deeper brought Tom to a very powerful orgasm. He spilled himself inside her as he let out a guttural moan.

They lay there panting heavily for a few seconds, relishing in what had just taken place. Then, Tom slowly pulled himself out of her, Anya shivering at the friction. He chastely kissed her lips, sweeping a tendril of hair off of her shining face as his sapphire blue eyes pierced hers once more. Then, he slowly stood up, dressed himself, and left after bidding her a good night.

Before Anya succumbed to her exhaustion, her eyelids slowly closing, her last thought was that she no longer belonged only to herself. No matter what happened in the future, a part of her would always belong Tom Riddle, the man who had destroyed her entire world.

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**That's it for chapter three! This chapter was especially difficult for me to write (I got frustrated a lot...) so I'd greatly appreciate advice and/or constructive criticism. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it :)**


	4. CHAPTER 4: The First Meeting

**Long Author's Note! (please read):** It has definitely been waaay too long since I've updated! I'm sorry for the delay, but a lot's going on right now. I finally started college about a month ago, and it's been hectic trying to adjust to the schedule and workload. However, I've managed to write another chapter for this story, although it's shorter than the last and not as much happens in it (but it's equally significant!). I was also in sort of a slump with the plot of this story and what exactly I wanted to happen, but now I've pretty much worked that out, so expect more frequent updates from me from now on :)

Also! I actually just finished reading the whole Harry Potter series today. I wanted to reread it for fun, but also for help with this story. In the meantime, I brainstormed several new ideas for other fanfics to write when this one's done, and I'm already excited about them! Unfortunately I discovered a slight problem: I always thought that Tom Riddle's eye color wasn't specifically mentioned in the books...however when reading DH again, in the scene where Ron destroys the locket it says that his eyes are "dark". So I've been getting his eye color wrong in this story. Now that I think about it, dark eyes suit him better than blue, because it goes along with his evil-ness more. But really, I guess it doesn't matter that much. It still bugs me for some reason though...haha.

_Anyways...I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review it if you read, I definitely need feedback and it's greatly appreciated always :)_

_**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter_

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CHAPTER 4: The First Meeting

Tom Riddle lay awake in his bed, his entire body shivering with excitement as he relived his encounter with Anya. He smirked as he remembered her crashing down on him; her tortured expressions and the way she moaned as he possessed her body; how easily she had submitted to him. He found himself quickly becoming aroused again, and he had half a mind to go back to her room and ravish her lithe body for the rest of the night. Tom quickly forced his thoughts away from his urges. The night had been fun, but he had business to take care of the next day, and he needed his rest.

Tomorrow, he planned to begin his questioning of Anya. Tom knew that he had been far too soft on the girl, giving her so much freedom, letting her lie to him about the compass, keeping her away from his Death Eaters, allowing her to call him "Tom". He scoffed in disgust at the thought of being called by _that_ name. Normally, he would have gotten the necessary information and killed her by now, but Anya was never a normal situation. Tom knew these interrogations would be quite different, now that they had copulated. It allowed him a new weapon and a new source of torture, for Tom knew that he could easily turn sex into torture if he wanted to…

Tom smiled cruelly at the thought, and soon drifted off to sleep, going over the interrogation plan in his mind. He did not notice his door open slightly, the figure of a woman clearly outlined in the dim light from her candle.

The glittering black eyes of Desdemona peered in at him. She could see that he was naked under the dark sheets of his bed, and she gasped, gazing longingly at him. His wavy jet-black hair, which was normally perfectly groomed, was tousled about his forehead. She smiled; he looked so peaceful and serene in his sleep, almost child-like. Desdemona crept quietly into the room, slowly closing the door behind her. She blew out her candle and made her way to his bed. As she sat down and stretched out her hand to smooth away the hair from his forehead, his eyes suddenly shot open and he violently grasped her wrist.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted. Desdemona cried out in pain, pulling her wrist away from him, rubbing the bruise he had just created.

"How dare you disturb me in my sleep!" he said spitefully, sitting up in bed. "Tomorrow is a very important day for me and you dare to wake me up just because you can't control your urges? I've had enough of this, Desdemona!" he spat, his voice growing louder with each word.

Desdemona opened her mouth to retort, but was so taken aback that it was impossible for her to speak. She could only stand stock-still as she stared at him in shock, hurt, and anger. Tom grimaced. Everything about her disgusted him at that moment. For the first time, he wanted to kill her. His eyes glowed red in the darkness.

"Get out of my sight, you filthy whore," he spat. He made to strike her, but she quickly obeyed his orders and was out of the room without a word.

Tom's anger quickly faded and he drew the sheets over him, smirking as he remembered what was to happen tomorrow. His last thought before he drifted off to sleep was that he would kill the next person who woke him up.

*******

Anya awoke with a start. She knew that she had just had a nightmare, but already she couldn't remember any of it. She sat up and looked around at the dark room. Something didn't feel right.

She could barely see the outlines of the furniture in the room, but even in the darkness she could see that something was strange. The room had a wavy, stretched look about it and seemed to be continuously moving, as if she was underwater. It was oddly disorientating, and Anya wondered if she was having a hallucination.

She glanced toward the window. It was open, and a light breeze was making the dark curtains stretch out towards her bed. There was something eerie about it, but she felt compelled to look out the window. As she got up from the bed, she felt a strange force pulling her to it and she glided effortlessly towards the window. The room continued to sway around her, and as the window came closer and closer, a horrible sight met her eyes.

No longer was she looking out at the manor grounds or the quaint surrounding village. Anya screamed in horror as she saw Lower Thornbrook in chaos. Buildings were burning or already destroyed, people ran screaming from their homes, trampling over the dead and rubble. Anya saw again the blinding flashes of red and green light that had frightened her so much before. The cacophonous sounds of death and destruction filled her ears, covered up only by her screams.

Suddenly, everything went completely quiet, and Anya heard the door opening slowly. She began to hear strange sounds… hissing and rasping like a loud whisper filled her ears and she turned around, gasping in horror as she saw a large snake slithering into her room from the open door. It was coming fast towards her, it's poisonous green body coiling and stretching, its head raised to reveal deadly fangs. Anya shielded her face and screamed as it struck.

A blinding white light filled her eyes, and Anya realized that she had opened them. Gasping for breath, her body drenched in sweat, she sat up quickly and looked around at the room. It had only been a dream…a nightmare.

It was clearly late morning and her room was bathed pleasantly in sunlight. She looked towards the window. It was closed, unlike in the dream. The room seemed quite solid, nothing was moving, and everything was in its usual place. Anya let out a sigh of relief, but with a sudden jolt that made her insides quiver, she remembered what had taken place the night before.

As she remembered the more vivid details, she felt a burning shame. She never imagined it would happen that way, always thinking that she'd somehow find a nice husband, or maybe her Aunt would arrange her marriage, and then it would happen…but here she was, a prisoner to this mysterious man, and she had allowed him and encouraged him to make love to her. Anya's mind and feelings were torn, for she had very much desired Tom Riddle, and even now she knew she wouldn't resist him if he wanted to do that again…Yet, she knew there was something strange about him; that there was something wrong with him.

Anya could deduce that there must be a more sinister reason that she was being held here. Her dream was no coincidence; she was in danger. She remembered their conversation over dinner last night. He had told her that she was a witch, and she had believed him. But did he only wish to lure her into a false sense of security? What if the "magic" she could do was not shared by others? What if that was the reason she was being held here? Then it came to her. _The compass!_ she thought.

He had specifically asked her about it, and he seemed very interested in its powers. Anya didn't know any more about the compass than what she had told him…but what if he wasn't convinced? What if he didn't believe her? Any was disrupted from her pondering by a sudden knock on the door. Anya wasted no time in answering it and was not surprised by who it was.

"Good morning, Anya," said Tom Riddle. There was nothing in his face to suggest that his feelings towards her had changed because of the night before.

"I trust that you are feeling quite well?" he said smirking slightly. Without waiting for an answer he went on. "I request that we meet again this afternoon—shall we say 5 o'clock?—in the library. There are some very important matters we have to discuss, Anya."

"Yes, Tom. I-I understand," she said quietly, again feeling intimidated. He smiled, bowed slightly, and was gone. Anya could hear his confident strides down the hallway. Feeling slightly apprehensive, she closed the door and retreated back into her room.

The afternoon passed very slowly for Anya. She spent most of it pacing about the room thinking about the upcoming meeting, trying to push some particularly shameful thoughts out of her mind. Finally, she heard the clock strike 5 o'clock as she watched the crimson light of sunset spreading over the valley. She quickly left her room and made her way among the many elaborate hallways to the main library. When she walked through the doors, Tom Riddle was already there.

He was sitting in a particularly luxurious velvet armchair, his feet resting upon a pouf, twirling a long wooden stick idly in his long-fingered hands. Anya recognized it as the wand he had used to remove her clothing the night before…

"Good evening," he said smoothly.

"Good evening, Tom," Anya said as calmly as she could. He gestured to another comfortable-looking armchair across from him.

"Please, sit down."

Anya did as she was told and for a few moments they simply stared at each other. It was as if he expected her to break the silence first, but Anya had nothing to say. He continued to twirl his wand idly, smirking, until at last he spoke.

"As I said earlier, Anya, there is something very important we must discuss now," he paused for a few long moments. "You have information that is essential to me, and you are the only person from whom I can get this information." The atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed. Anya felt uneasy as Tom stared at her unblinkingly; his smirk had disappeared to be replaced with a cold and calculating look. He took his feet off the pouf and leaned in towards her.

"I want you to tell me everything you know about the compass," he said quietly. Anya shifted slightly in her chair; she had to choose her words carefully.

"The compass, I think, has been in my family for a while…As I already told you, I've had it since I can remember, and I was told that it belonged to my mother. I can only assume that it was passed down to her as well," Anya said, her voice trailing off. She felt as if this was not a discussion, but an interrogation. When he didn't say anything, Anya went on.

"There's always been something strange about the compass. Like I said before, it's never behaved like other compasses I've seen. The arrow changes direction a lot, or sometimes not at all. But it must be pointing to something…" she said slowly and uncertainly. Anya was feeling extremely uncomfortable now. Tom gave her a skeptical look as she struggled to meet his eyes.

"Yes…I believe I could have figured that much out for myself," he sneered. Anya gasped slightly in shock. He had always treated her so politely; she had never expected to be spoken to like that. He stood up from his chair and turned away from her, putting his hands behind his back as he walked slowly towards the far wall of bookshelves.

"I must say, Anya, that I find that information quite trivial. Can you tell me anything more specific?" he said in a slightly louder voice. His tone was noticeably more impatient and Anya felt threatened. He wasn't asking her, he was ordering her.

"I've told you everything I know," she said as calmly as she could. There was a long silence. Anya could feel the tension in the room rising. At last he turned around to face her. Anya felt a jolt in her stomach when he suddenly smiled at her. This was a smile she had never seen before. It did not enhance his handsome features, but made him appear strangely inhuman. He began to walk towards her, his eyes boring into hers.

"Ah, you see…I expected you to say something like that," he chuckled briefly, but his face quickly tightened into a frown. He was still holding the wand in his hand and Anya eyed it warily.

"If you know so little about this compass, if you seemingly don't understand its behavior, then why did you risk your life to save it when your village was being attacked?" he shot at her. His voice was strangely cold, his gaze piercing.

"How do you—" Anya broke off, her eyes widening in shock as she suddenly remembered her first night in the manor and the conversation she had overheard. It was he who had initiated the attack on her village; he who had destroyed her world.

"_You_" she whispered, "It was you…how could you?"

"I believe I am the one asking the questions Anya," he said quietly. He moved quickly towards her. He was pointing his wand at her now.

"Answer the question," he said forcefully. She stood up, her body tense with determination and anger. She didn't say anything, but only stared at him, unblinkingly, her eyes occasionally darting to his wand. Tom was surprised by her courage.

"You've been introduced to a wand before?" he said, smirking as her face fell. He knew she was remembering the previous night. Their bodies were only inches away.

"Wands are quite useful things, Anya, as they are essential to the use of magic. The spells one can conjure with a wand can cause wonderful things to happen," as he said this, the most beautiful red rose emerged from the tip of his wand. He held it out to Anya and she reluctantly took it.

"Yet, terrible, terrible things have been done with wands…destruction, violence, murder…" he said icily. He gave his wand a casual flick and in an instant, the red rose that Anya was holding turned into a hissing black snake. Anya screamed, dropping the snake on the floor, quickly backing away from it. Tom laughed, and the snake disappeared in a whisp of smoke.

Suddenly, he made another quick gesture with his wand and Anya found herself thrown violently against the wall. She screamed and struggled as she realized that she was pinned, unable to move.

"Then again, it all depends on your definition of 'terrible'," said Tom slowly as he walked towards her. Soon he was only inches away from her helpless form. His eyes trailed suggestively over her body. He leaned towards her.

"I'm prepared to use any means necessary to get the information I desire, Anya," he said softly into her ear. She shivered as he trailed his wand from the side of her face, down her neck, and to her chest. Tom enjoyed toying with her.

"We can make this easy, or we can make this difficult," he paused threateningly. "Now tell me…why did you risk your life to save the compass?"

"I—I don't know. I can't explain why…I just felt as if I had to. It was an unexplainable impulse. I swear, Tom, that's all I know. P—please don't hurt me," Anya pleaded. Blood was pounding in her ears; her body was trembling. He smiled cruelly at her fear. He always loved it when they pleaded…

"Fair enough…Now, Anya, you will tell me everything you know about the powers of this compass…if you wish to leave this room unhurt," Tom said slowly, his expression hardening.

"I've already told you everything I kn—"

"Don't lie to me, Anya. I know…I always know, when someone is lying," he hissed.

"Please, Tom, I don't know anything about it, I sw—"

"_Crucio!_" he suddenly shouted, pointing his wand at her heart. Anya screamed as pain she had never before experienced coursed through her body. She felt as if white-hot knives were stabbing every inch of her skin, as if her very insides were on fire…and then it was gone. She gasped and panted, her head bowed, warm tears beginning to run freely down her face. She was only vaguely aware of Tom Riddle's voice speaking to her from what seemed like miles away.

"That was only a taste of what will come, Anya, if you don't cooperate. I already told you not to lie to me. You don't want me to do that again, do you? Then tell the truth," he said coldly.

Anya stood there, shaking uncontrollably, her aching body still pinned against the wall. She was afraid to speak, for he would torture her again if she didn't tell him what he wanted to hear, but she was also afraid to remain silent. Tom grew impatient and roughly grabbed her chin, bringing her face towards his.

"You really don't know _anything_ about this compass?" he said in a dangerously quiet voice. She looked at him straight in the face and shook her head pitifully. He laughed cruelly.

"I'm afraid that might have been the wrong answer, for your sake. If it is true, then I no longer have any use for you," he sneered as her eyes widened in shock. Suddenly, a miracle happened.

Something was rapping loudly at the window. Tom withdrew himself from Anya to investigate. When he pulled back the drapes, she saw that a large black owl was tapping the window with its talons, a letter attached to its foot. Tom quickly opened the window, retrieved the letter, and the owl flew away. He opened it immediately and Anya watched as he read it. She saw his eyes widen, a hungry look appeared on his face. He looked up at her, casting the letter aside.

"Today is your lucky day, Anya. Because of this letter, I have decided not to kill you," he said pleasantly. He raised his wand and the curse was lifted. He watched her fall gracefully to the floor, eyeing her hungrily again as he knelt down beside her. Tom smirked as he gently turned her face towards his, pressing his lips to hers for a long and lingering kiss. Anya tried to pull away but he held her fast. At long last he released her.

"You certainly weren't as resistant last night," he said smoothly. Anya blushed shamefully and ran out of the room as quickly as she could. Tom smirked as he watched her dress and long flowing hair whip around the corner, hearing her quick footsteps growing fainter.

He turned back to the letter, picking it up and reading it more carefully this time.

_Tom,_

_Of course I'll meet with you. If you'd come by the shop in three days' time, I'd be glad to assist you in any way that I can. It's the least I can do for you, as you were such an asset to this shop! No one regrets your resignation as much as I do; we'd never done better business during the time you were here. I'd be glad to help you with whatever questions you have._

_Sincerely,_

_Borgin_

Tom laughed softly. He was amused at the degree of gratitude that Mr. Borgin had for him. He knew that his charm, politeness, and cleverness would get him far with the people he needed.

He pulled the glittering gold compass out of the pocket of his jacket, running the chain through his long fingers and holding it up to the light. He observed the arrow for a few minutes as it spun erratically in many different directions. He smiled wildly as he realized that at this time in merely three days, he could possibly be closer to achieving his dream than ever before.

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**I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Expect quicker updates from now on (sorry again about the long wait). Thanks so much for reading, and please review! :)**


	5. CHAPTER 5: The Heir of Gryffindor

**Author's Note:** Well there's not too much to say...Here's another chapter! I've been trying to work steadily on this story in addition to my studies/music, so I hope the updates don't seem too far apart. I hope you enjoy it! **Warning:** it has sexual stuff in it; not explicit sex, but possibly offensive material so you have been warned! Please review this if you read it, I really appreciate it, always :)

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own Harry Potter._

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CHAPTER 5: The Heir of Gryffindor

The following three days at Riddle Manor were a living hell for Anya. She barely endured several more interrogations from Tom Riddle. Each was useless, as she had no more information to give him. Still, he persisted, sometimes giving her a taste of agony, casting that spell he had used to torture her the first time. No matter what she told him, he never believed her. Anya's horrible nightmares continued; each dream was more hideous and terrifying than the last, and all of them strangely included snakes. When she wasn't dreading the interrogations or sleep, she tried desperately to think of an escape plan. Several far-fetched ideas crossed her mind, but all seemed impossible, for she knew that several others lived in the manor that followed Tom's orders. It seemed naïve to call them friends…they seemed more like followers.

There were several times when Anya considered ending it all, but then she would remember her encounter with the white dove and think better of it. Even though escape was unlikely, it was worth a try. In her mind, dying while trying to escape was better than dying by the hands of _him_.

Now, Anya was pacing about her room, her eyes constantly darting to the clock. It was five minutes to five o'clock. She would have to leave for the library soon, for she knew that to be late was certainly asking for punishment, but she dreaded going as much as staying.

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle was already waiting for her in the library with a strange smile on his face. The only light came from several candles scattered throughout the room, their flames flickering sinisterly. His long fingers were trembling with excitement. Not only was he going to visit Mr. Borgin in a few short hours and, with any luck, emerge closer than ever to his dream of becoming the greatest sorcerer in the world, but he also planned on making this interrogation particularly memorable for both he and Anya. He knew that she would be here soon, so he quickly cast silencing and locking charms on the door. Only he would be able to open it after she entered the room.

Anya arrived minutes later, her form was silhouetted briefly in the doorway before it was closed and she was plunged into near darkness. Feeling slightly apprehensive, she made her way carefully to the center of the room. He had never had it this dark before, and in the flickering flames she saw that strange smile on his face, the one that did not make his features more handsome, but almost inhuman.

"Good evening, Anya," he said quietly. He stood up and began to move closer to her. She gulped, her voice caught in her throat.

"Before we begin, I must say that I've found our previous meetings quite…unsuccessful," he smirked. "So I decided that today, we will go about things differently than before. I'm tempted to try something new with you. I've found it quite effective on others in the past, and I wonder if it will work just as well on you."

"Please, sir. I don't know anything else. After all that you've done to me…I would have told you," Anya pleaded. She was afraid of what he had in mind. She knew he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

He was quite close to her now, and she instinctively backed away from him, raising a hand defensively. He laughed softly before suddenly grabbing her wrist and roughly pulling her against him.

"I don't find that answer very convincing, Anya. But perhaps I can convince you some other way," he said throatily into her ear. He began to kiss her neck roughly, pushing her against the wall in the process. She cried out as he bit her neck, and then began to slowly lick the mark he had created. He forced her head back, kissing the exposed skin and then moving up to her mouth. He traced her lips slowly with his tongue before claiming her mouth entirely with his own. Anya struggled and writhed beneath him, but to no avail. His form towered over hers; she couldn't move, could hardly breathe.

Tom pulled away from her suddenly, his hands moving down to her bust. Anya whimpered, her body betraying her as he began to massage her breasts gently. He licked and kissed her neck as his careful ministrations continued. He pulled her closer to him, his mouth finding hers. Anya moaned, he was being much more gentle now. Shamefully, she began to kiss him back and he smiled cruelly, one long finger running along the rim of her dress before his whole hand slipped beneath the fabric.

"Convinced yet?" he said as she felt his hands touching her bare skin. "So tell me, Anya…what do you know about the compass?" Tom said coolly.

Anya couldn't say anything. Her breath was heavy and erratic; her body was uncontrollably shaking. She looked him full in the face and saw his smug expression. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he had her completely under his control. She couldn't fight it.

"At a loss for words? Or perhaps you have so much to tell me that you don't know where to start?" he laughed. He moved one of his hands down, slowly lifting up the skirt of her dress. Anya shivered as she felt his cool hand slide slowly up her thigh. She struggled fiercely against him, but he quickly drew his wand and flicked it, pinning her against the wall and rendering her motionless.

He resumed his touch, his fingers softly caressing her face while the other hand began to make its way up her thigh. He turned her face towards his and leaned down to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth as his fingers made contact with her core. He could feel her wetness through the fabric of her undergarments. He stared into her eyes as he began to slowly tease her, drawing several moans of pleasure from her.

"_Now_ you're becoming more vocal," he sneered. He began to kiss her neck again, his ministrations becoming more forceful. She shuddered against him, helpless to resist.

"_Tell me, Anya_," he whispered softly into her ear. He licked the shell of her ear, biting down gently on her earlobe. She gasped sharply as his fingers pushed aside the fabric and began to rub her relentlessly.

"P-please…Tom," she said with great difficulty, her body quivering beneath him.

"Please what, Anya? Please _stop_? Surely you don't want me to do that," he mocked.

"I d-don't…know anything…_please_," she half moaned, half spoke. She was very close to climax; he was forcing her body to react to him. It was torture. Suddenly, he slipped a long finger inside of her, forcing another moan from her. Anya didn't know how much longer she could take this. One hand tantalizingly worked her body while the other teased her in various ways: touching her lips, caressing her face, dancing across her spine, gently cupping her breast. Tom felt her body tensing. He knew she was close.

"If you tell me what I need to know, I'll give you the release you so _desperately_ need, Anya," he smirked. Tom always enjoyed the feeling of completely dominating another. He continued to move his finger in and out of her at an unbearably slow speed. A few unintelligible sounds escaped from Anya as she struggled to control her body, which desperately wanted to move faster against his hand. A few moments later, Tom pulled away from her completely, denying her release and leaving her disheveled form quivering against the wall.

"That's too bad," he mocked, smiling evilly at her pained expression. Tom looked her full in the face as he slowly licked her essence off of his long fingers. Anya's eyes widened. He walked over to the door and opened it. At once the room was flooded with light from the hallway.

"If you'll please leave, Anya, I have some business to take care of," he said smugly, opening the door for her. At once Anya tore from the room, hot tears of anger, frustration, and shame streaming down her face.

_Women are so weak_, he thought as he walked into the hallway after her. Tom was somewhat disappointed with the fruitlessness of that interrogation, but it had been the most fun that he'd had for quite some time.

He made his way through the maze of elaborate hallways until he reached his room. It was time to get ready to meet Mr. Borgin. Tom felt a jolt of excitement as he summoned his tie, jacket, and coat to him. He put them on quickly, his hands shaking slightly with anticipation. He withdrew the golden compass from his desk drawer and watched the arrow spin before putting it into his pocket. He combed his hair, straightened his tie, and smirked into the mirror before finally departing.

He walked briskly through the manor, his footsteps strangely quiet. Tom could feel his heart beating quickly. He was filled with a sense of purpose, and the possibility of discovering the unknown excited him.

The whole house was deserted, for he had given the death eaters a job to do. Tom didn't want the lot bothering him on an important night like this. They were to wipe out another small village without him tonight. He left Helborne in charge, and they were to keep an eye out for any presence of magic. Since the Lower Thornbrook incident, Tom wanted to make sure that he left no stone unturned. If there were more magical artifacts in the possession of Muggles, he wanted to know about it and claim them as his own. They were essential to his future.

As he exited through the grand double doors that served as the main entrance to the manor, Tom felt the crisp fall air on his face. He took a deep breath before turning gracefully on the spot, his whole mind focused on his destination. He disappeared into thin air.

*******

It was a brisk fall night. The stars and moon shone brightly against the dark night sky and the pale moonlight illuminated the seedy street of Knockturn Alley. The few people still wandering the premises kept out of sight, avoiding the bright light of the moon, as if they feared to be discovered.

A tall, dark figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the cobblestone street. He walked confidently past various sinister shops, not noticing anyone or anything else. A ragged young woman emerged from the darkness of a side alley, gazing longingly at his handsome features, sensing his power. An old man selling suspicious wares of dark magic nearly approached him, but thought better of it. He looked like someone who didn't want to be bothered. The tall stranger nodded at him as he walked past, and the old man felt a jolt of fear.

Tom Riddle finally reached the sinister yet familiar shop of Borgin and Burkes. He looked up into its dusty windows and sighed contentedly. He had once called this place home, and he began to recall several _fond_ memories. He chuckled as he remembered the foolish old woman, Hepzibah Smith, and her incessant flirting. But she had been quite useful to him, after all. His eyes briefly flashed red before he pulled open the doors and stepped through the entrance into the musty air of the shop.

He made his way to the back parlor with an air of familiarity. Mr. Borgin was already waiting for him.

"Tom, my lad!" said the ruddy-faced man broadly. His pudgy fingers closed over Tom's long ones and they shook hands vigorously. "How are you? It's wonderful to see your face back in this dreary old place again!"

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Borgin. I must say that I have begun to miss working here, and it pains me to hear that business is not doing as well as it used to. If I weren't so involved in several meticulous affairs of my own, I would certainly take back my old post in an instant," he said quietly. This was an outright lie. Tom had gotten what he needed from the miserable job, and it was only because of desperation that he was setting foot in this place again. But Mr. Borgin was certainly the least intelligent of the pair of owners, and he knew that careful flattery would get him far.

"Yes, yes, it's quite unfortunate. But no matter, Tom, no matter. The more important issue is why you're here! Judging by that letter you wrote, it's nothing small," said Borgin, gesturing for Tom to sit down. He took his seat behind the desk and Tom took his across from him. Tom didn't say anything, but took the golden compass from his pocket and laid it down on the desk with a flourish. Borgin's mouth fell open.

"Do my eyes deceive me…or is this truly what I think it is?" said Borgin quietly as he eyed it greedily. He snatched it up and began to caress it with his thick fingers. "All accounts said that Gryffindor's compass had been lost for centuries! My boy, wherever did you find this?"

"While on my travels, I found it in the possession of a simple Muggle girl. She'd been attacked, so I took her back to my home. I wanted to question her about this compass," Tom added, seeing the disapproving look on Borgin's face. One thing they both shared was a hatred for Muggles.

"I wonder how a filthy Muggle came to possess such an artifact," said Borgin with a quiet anger.

"Sir, I don't believe that she is an ordinary Muggle. She has been staying with me for about a week now, and during that time I have been intensely questioning her. I have sensed something strange within her that I have never felt before with other Muggles. I think she may be a witch, sir," said Tom confidently. Borgin stared at him skeptically, but Tom did not break eye contact. At last, Borgin looked away and set down the compass. He let out a long sigh.

"It's not something I'll believe right away, but there's a way to find out if your theory is correct," Borgin stood up and turned to the cluttered bookshelves behind his desk. After a few minutes of searching, he pulled out a tattered and dusty piece of rolled up parchment and set it on the desk. He tapped it once with his wand and it opened. Tom's eyes widened.

It was a vast family tree, with intricate lettering and design. Borgin gave it to Tom to peruse. At a closer look, it appeared to document every descendant of the founders of Hogwarts. Tom glanced nervously at the Slytherin line; he did not want Borgin to know that he was Slytherin's heir. With relief, he saw that his name was not on the parchment. Curiously, it ended with Merope, Morfin, and Marvolo Gaunt. Tom was glad that his filthy Muggle father was not present on such an important document.

"What was the name of the Muggle girl?" asked Borgin, gesturing for Tom to give it back to him.

"Anya Blackburn," he said as he reluctantly gave the parchment back. Borgin set it down on the desk and began to trace Gryffindor's line with his wand.

"Blackburn…that's no wizarding name I've ever heard of, but it wouldn't hurt to check…" Tom watched Borgin attentively as he continued to trace the line while murmuring something.

"Check what, sir?" said Tom interestedly. At once the parchment began to glow violently with a bright white light. Both Tom and Borgin cried out, shielding their eyes. Strange whispering noises filled the room, and the parchment began to shake as if it was blowing in the wind. At once, it ceased, and Borgin stared wide-eyed at Gryffindor's line.

"Look!" he shouted, pointing at the parchment. Tom gasped as he saw letters beginning to ooze forth from the end of Gryffindor's line. Two names, Lydia Gallant and John Blackburn appeared, followed by an elaborate line that connected the two and extended downward to a single name: Anya Blackburn.

"I never thought it possible…" whispered Borgin. "I thought the line had died out a few generations ago, but I was wrong." He continued to study the family tree, as if expecting the names to disappear, but the ink shone brightly on the parchment.

"So it's true…this girl is not a Muggle at all. The Gallants are related to Gryffindor himself and are a very ancient wizarding family. Her father must have been a Muggle, which is why her name was unknown to me. All that aside, this girl is the true heir of Gryffindor!" said Borgin slowly.

Tom was speechless. He continued to stare at the parchment, at the letters forming the name of the one true heir of Gryffindor. He had not expected to make a discovery such as this. His mind began to calculate; new plans and thoughts began to form; it was all becoming clear to him, now, what he must do.

"Are you all right, Tom?" said Borgin. He saw something inhuman in his eyes, had they changed color? But it must have been a trick of the light, for as Tom Riddle's gaze met his, it was gone.

"I'm fine, sir," he said quietly. As Borgin turned to put the parchment back on the cluttered shelves, the bestial smile lit up Tom's face once more. His eyes burned red as he remembered large hazel eyes, brown hair in waves, and the beautiful face that was filled with hardship and loneliness. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue like a snake.

_Anya…_

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_**Once again, I hope you liked it, and please review! Thanks very much :)**_


	6. CHAPTER 6: Possession

**_Important Author's Note (please read!):_ First, I really want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, fav'd etc. my story so far. I really appreciate your support; it helps me to keep going and inspires me to write more :)**

** Before I say anything else, I need to tell my readers that this chapter is VERY dark, containing explicit material. It merits an M rating. _Reader discretion is advised._ This is a turning point in the story; a turn for the worse I'm afraid...you have been warned. Please take this warning seriously.**

**All that aside, I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and that you enjoy this chapter, as dark as it is. There is not much more to go with this story, it is nearly finished. Please read and review, it makes me happy :)**

_Disclaimer:__ I don't own Harry Potter._

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CHAPTER 6: Possession

Anya gazed out of her window at the disconcerting view before her. The once clear sky had darkened with ferocious storm clouds. They blocked the stars and moon and seemed to be edging closer by the second. Something awful was going to happen; she could sense it. She knew that she must not delay.

With haste, she bustled about the room, taking some dresses from the wardrobe and ripping the dark sheets off of her bed. She folded the dresses and a few sheets, tying another sheet around them and then continued to search the expanse of the room. Anya was going to attempt an escape from this beautiful yet terrifying place that had become a prison, a living hell.

She knew that she would not get another opportunity like this one. Both Riddle and the others weren't in the house, as far as she could tell. She hadn't heard a sound since he left, and that had been nearly four hours ago. _They must be up to something horrible_, she thought as she slung the sheets and dresses over her shoulder and left the room. Anya did not want to take any risks, so she walked quietly and listened carefully for any signs of others in the manor. Tom Riddle was not a man foolish enough to leave her on her own in this place, there had to be a catch…

At last she made her way into the spacious kitchen, grabbing a large loaf of bread and some dried fruits from the pantry and placing them into her makeshift suitcase. She was about to run through the front door to freedom when she suddenly realized: _the compass!_

Anya could not bring herself to leave without it; she'd rather it be anywhere else than in the hands of Riddle. She knew exactly where to look; it had to be in his study. Having only seen him in it once, she scrutinized the dark hallways, looking for any sign of familiarity. The establishment was so grand and indulgent in every aspect that after a while everything started looking the same, each room and hallway more overwhelmingly luxurious than the last.

After an exhausting search, she finally found the room she was looking for. With haste, she tore up the room, ripping books off the shelves, looking for obscure hiding places, tearing curtains and upholstery, opening every single drawer she could find. Anya was so immersed in her investigation that she did not notice the dark figure of a woman creeping up behind her…

Desdemona's dark eyes glittered with malice and disgust at the scene before her. She had secretly stayed behind, hoping to find some time where she and her Lord would be alone together…but now _this_ is what she had found instead! This filthy Muggle was profaning this place with her presence, putting her dirty hands all over the Dark Lord's most important things! She deftly pulled her wand out of her robes and pointed it at the girl.

"_Stop!_" Desdemona bellowed, her body shaking with anger. Startled, Anya dropped the papers she had been fiddling with and turned around, her body paralyzed with fear.

"Just _what_ do you think you are doing? _How dare you dirty this sacred place!_"Desdemona screamed at the top of her lungs. Her eyes darted to the sack of clothes, sheets, and food that lay a few feet away from the terrified girl. Her thin lips twisted into a cruel smile.

"Running away, eh? I shouldn't stop you then…No one wants you gone as much as I do," she said quietly. "And yet here you stand, entering a room where even the Dark Lord's most devoted followers are not allowed…and defiling it! "

Anya could do nothing more than stare at the insane woman before her, at a loss for words and unable to move.

"After what you've done, I cannot let you just get away. The Dark Lord will reward me well when he sees that your meddlesome self has been disposed of! But before I end your worthless life, how about a little dose of pain?" she spat. She raised her wand, ready to perform a most unforgivable curse, when suddenly the door burst open.

"May I ask what all of the commotion is about, ladies?" said a familiar soft voice. Anya felt a jolt in her stomach. It was Tom Riddle.

He stepped through the doorway, his wand held out in front of him. Surprisingly, it was pointed directly at Desdemona. He was not looking at Anya. She thought that she saw a trace of loathing in his eyes. A look of complete admiration crossed Desdemona's face as she lowered her wand and turned around to face him.

"My Lord…" she murmured, bowing low.

"Get up," he said firmly, his wand still pointed at her. "What exactly are you doing?" Desdemona looked slightly taken aback.

"My Lord, I caught the filthy Muggle breaking into your study. She was looking for someth—"

"I believe I told you and the others to never enter this room unless I gave specific permission. I am most displeased, Desdemona. You have disobeyed me," he said quietly.

"Please, my Lord, I would not have entered if I hadn't heard noises. Please forgive me, my Lord," she said, falling to the floor and groveling at his feet. He kicked her swiftly in the jaw and she cried out in pain, falling backwards and clutching her bloody mouth.

"No!" cried Anya. The woman writhed on the floor while Tom stood over her.

"Nothing you say, Desdemona, will redeem this. I impose very few laws on my followers, and yet you have broken the most important one. Not only this, but you were attempting to kill and torture my most important asset…" as Tom said those last few words, his dark eyes drifted slowly to Anya's hazel ones.

"What? _Her?_" shouted Desdemona as she struggled to stand up. "She is a filthy Muggle! She means nothing!"

"This woman means more to me than you ever have or ever will, Desdemona," he said with a relish as he slowly walked across the room towards Anya. He was enjoying toying with Desdemona. In his mind, her usefulness was nearly used up. She had become nothing more than a bother to him. He might as well make the most of these next few minutes before…

Desdemona turned her face slowly towards the pair, watching as Tom seized Anya around the waist and pulled her close towards him, his mouth colliding with hers. Anya struggled as hard as she could, tearing at his hands fruitlessly, trying to push him away, but he was too strong. This was a kiss to assert pure dominance and nothing more. When at last he broke it, Anya looked desperately at Desdemona, and was shocked to see that her face was no longer angry or deranged. In her eyes she saw nothing but the utmost sadness and despair. She looked as if her very heart had been broken in two.

"Let me go!" screamed Anya, and surprisingly he released her. She looked again at Desdemona, who continued to stare at Tom. His eyes were filled with a sick pleasure as he stared back; he knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was enjoying it.

"There is much that you are ignorant of, Desdemona. I shall spare you the details, since they would only perplex your already irreparable mental state. Let's just say that this woman's blood is worth infinitely more than yours, and that is saying something, my dear, since she was raised as a Muggle!" Tom spat, drawing nearer to the crouching woman. Anya did not register his foreboding words, as her eyes were transfixed on Desdemona.

She was clearly unstable, and yet Anya could see that beneath her wild appearance there was the portrait of a once beautiful woman. She could not have been much older than Anya. In her eyes she saw something familiar; she had clearly had a difficult life, she too had been unappreciated, her dreams and innocence crushed at an early age. She was a victim of her environment, easily brainwashed and driven to insanity by her pitiful situation. Anya saw parts of herself in this woman; this woman was something that she could have become, and for that reason she felt an impulse to help her.

"I have had enough of your intrusions into my business, Desdemona. You used to be my most prized and devoted follower, but you have turned into a simpering, meddling imbecile…_Crucio!_" he yelled, his wand pointed directly at her heart. Desdemona writhed and twisted beneath him, emitting screams of agony.

"_STOP! LEAVE HER ALONE!_" screamed Anya and she lunged at Tom, trying to wrench the wand from his grasp. With a flick of his wand she was easily pushed away, but in the process he mistakenly removed the curse. He smirked at Anya, but turned quickly back to Desdemona, who was still struggling to stand up. He observed her difficulty with amusement until at last she was on her feet.

She panted heavily, not bothering to stop the blood that poured from her mouth, her body bent over in defeat. Anya stared in horror, wanting to do something, anything, but she couldn't move. At last, Desdemona turned her face upwards to meet Tom's cruel gaze. Her face was streaked with tears and blood. When she spoke, her voice was soft, calm, and determined, sounding nothing like the yelling and wailing that Anya had heard so often.

"No matter what you say or do to me, and no matter how much you hurt me, I am and always will be your most loyal servant. You are my life…I would do anything for you. I would die for you…I _love_ you, Tom," and she reached out a pale, trembling hand to him. He looked at her, considered her for a moment, and then there was a flash of scarlet in his dark eyes.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!" he shouted triumphantly, his voice strangely high and cold. A blinding jet of green light erupted from the tip of his wand and hit Desdemona squarely in the heart. The force of the spell knocked her backwards, her hand still outstretched, and she skidded a few feet on the cold wooden floor. Desdemona's black eyes no longer glittered, but still held the same look of utter tragedy and despair. She was dead.

The scream of horror never left Anya; she was in too much shock to do anything more than stare at Desdemona's crumpled corpse. Suddenly she felt a strong hand grasp her upper arm and then she was being dragged away from the horrible sight. He moved her along firmly, but not roughly, for Tom did not want to damage his now most prized possession. They made their way through many long, elaborate hallways until they finally reached the room that Tom deemed the best for this occasion: the drawing room. He opened the door and pushed her inside.

It had to be the largest room in the house, and its luxury and grandeur surpassed that of any of the other rooms Anya had seen. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, its many candles glowing intensely. She barely had time to take in her surroundings when Tom suddenly spoke.

"What a foolish woman. She became something so pathetic and weak. Now you see, Anya, what happens when one is foolish enough to believe in this so-called _love_," he said mockingly. He turned to Anya and looked straight into her eyes.

"Love has no power," he said coldly. The look on his face truly frightened Anya. It was inhuman and merciless…filled with hunger.

"You're a murderer…" whispered Anya. He continued to stare unblinkingly into her eyes, smiling cruelly.

"Haven't we already established that?" he chuckled, and motioned to a comfortable-looking chair situated a few feet away from her. "Won't you sit down? We have much to talk about."

"You're a murderer," she repeated, more loudly.

"I request that you sit down," he said firmly as he raised his wand. Anya felt an invisible force pushing her down into the seat. She sank into the cushions and her arms became invisibly bound to the armrests; she struggled uselessly against the force binding her. He took a seat in another chair across from her, his long fingers twirling his wand absentmindedly.

"I have many things to speak with you about, my dear…but first, a little background information. Do you notice anything unusual in this room?" he gestured around the room, and Anya looked around gasping when her eyes fell on a very interesting painting.

It appeared to be a painting of Tom Riddle, sitting in what looked like the very room they were in, on the very same chair he was sitting in now. There were two other people in it, a man and a woman, standing next to the chair. They looked older…his parents? The woman was clenching the back of the chair, looking rather stiff. The older man looked as if he had been very successful in life, although possibly by not the most honest of means. She looked more closely at the man sitting in the chair.

"Is that…you?" she said quietly, looking back at Tom. He laughed quietly and threw a quick glance at the painting.

"No, that is not me…although we look very much alike, don't we?" he spoke with slight resentment in his voice. Anya looked back at the painting and studied it more closely.

The man sat squarely in the center of the chair, his arms resting nonchalantly on the armrests. He looked as equally arrogant as his father, if not more so. He was extremely handsome, with wavy black hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. Although he seemed to give off a similar confident vibe, Anya could tell that he did not possess the same ambition and desire for power as Tom Riddle. He appeared to be nearly the same age as him, but was still quite content to live with his parents and enjoy the luxurious surroundings he was born into. His stance on the chair indicated that he had no plan to leave this comfortable life anytime soon.

"The man in the chair is my father. He was also called Tom Riddle. Those are my grandparents. I never knew their names, they died before I had a chance to find out," Tom said quietly. Anya was shocked to see that he was smiling slightly. He looked back at her and leaned in closer.

"I believe I already explained to you about magic…my mother was a witch who fell in love with a Muggle, a non-magical person, Tom Riddle. They married, but he abandoned her when he found out what she was. My father was a fool, blinded by his own ignorance," he paused; his voice had begun to shake with anger. Anya stared at him intently, frightened by but deeply involved in his story.

"I was born in a Muggle orphanage in London; my mother died giving birth to me. She named me Tom, after my father, and Marvolo, after her father, with Riddle as my surname. For my entire childhood I wondered about my unusual name. They told me my father was still alive. When I found out I was a wizard I assumed that he must have been one too…but I was wrong. Imagine how shocked and disappointed I was to find out that _this_ pathetic excuse for a man was my father!" he said angrily, pointing at the painting. Tom realized he was beginning to lose control. He mentally regained composure and continued more calmly.

"This room is unusual in more ways than one, Anya," his mouth twisted itself into a cruel smile. "This is the very room where I murdered my worthless father and grandparents nearly five years ago."

Anya's large eyes widened; she gasped as her hands flew to her mouth in shock.

"It turns out that they were quite unpopular. No great loss to Little Hangleton, from what I could gather. Who knows, I may have done the whole village a favor that night," he laughed quietly, enjoying the look of utter horror on Anya's face.

"Tom…how could you?" she whispered. His eyes narrowed, she realized it was a stupid thing to say.

"_How could I?_ Quite easily, Anya," he paused for a few moments, as if reflecting on a memory. Suddenly he threw her an icy stare, "And you shall never call me by that name again. I'd hope that you would realize this yourself, after hearing my little story. Surely you didn't think that I would keep the name of that useless man who abandoned me before I was born?"

At once he stood up from the chair, turned away from her, and began to write in the air with his wand. Three shimmering, emerald green words appeared before her:

Tom Marvolo Riddle

He waved his wand again and the letters began to move, rearranging themselves to form four words that sent a chill down Anya's spine:

I am Lord Voldemort

The words faded in the air and he turned back towards her, a triumphant look on his face. Anya stared at where the words had been, her mouth agape. It was all becoming clear to her now; this was why the others in the house never called him by his name, why they appeared to be more of followers than friends, and why he had attacked her village...

Tom Riddle was evil.

"It cannot be true…" murmured Anya. All of this was too much for her to take. It couldn't be real. "Magic" couldn't exist. All of those people could not have died. This was just another nightmare, she was sure of it.

"It is the truth," he said quietly, edging ominously closer to her.

"It cannot be real. It does not exist,"

"Magic exists, Anya," he moved closer still.

"I don't believe you," she whispered, meeting his eyes.

"If it wasn't real, I wouldn't be able to do…_this_," she felt the tip of his wand touch her forehead. She screamed.

She saw Tom Riddle on the morning she'd met him, his eyes boring into hers. It became night, a dark figure appeared in front of her, pushing her to the ground. She saw her aunt shooing away customers; the store had closed. Then she saw herself as a child. The entire fabric store suddenly caught fire; everything was burning. Smoke filled her lungs briefly, she heard screaming, and then it stopped. Everything went black. Anya opened her eyes.

She was sprawled on the floor, panting heavily. Tom stood over her, his expression looked surprisingly shocked, as if he had encountered something he had not expected. And then he smiled, his eyes widening.

"This proves it, Anya. You are a witch and you cannot deny it now. That fire was no accident…_you_ did it," he paused, "with magic." He reached down and seized her upper arm, pulling her up from the floor.

"This brings up another very important point, my dear. But first I have another tale to tell you," he flicked his wand and she was forced back into the chair. He sat down across from her again, his pose very similar to his father's in the painting.

"Nearly one thousand years ago, four of the greatest witches and wizards came together to form a school of magic called Hogwarts. Our kind was freely hunted and persecuted in those times, and this school was designed as a safe haven for its students, who could practice and learn magic in peace. The four founders names were Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, and even today those are the names of the four houses," he said rather quickly. Anya stared at him, trying to wrap her head around all that he had just told her and struggling to recover from the complete violation of her mind.

"All that aside, the important point is this. I attended Hogwarts in my youth, and during the time I was there, I discovered that _I_ was the true heir of Slytherin, the greatest of the Hogwarts four, through my mother's side," he laughed a strangely high and cold laugh.

"Have you put two and two together, Anya?" he said as he pulled out the golden compass from his pocket. Anya gasped…_Gryffindor_.

"Then that compass belongs to…" she trailed off.

"Yes, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. It is quite a valuable artifact," said Tom quietly, his eyes greedily fixed on the compass.

"But how could my family have ever gotten it?" said Anya more to herself than him. He smirked, leaning in very close to her. Her eyes widened as he pushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. It was a disturbing gesture.

"Because, Anya, _you_ are the heir of Gryffindor," he murmured, his face only inches away from hers.

Anya felt sick. She knew nothing about magic; no history, spells, or names; but he had proved to her that it was real. All of those people and her entire village were murdered because of it…she was imprisoned in this place because of it. She knew nothing about who Gryffindor was, but discovering that she was his heir made her feel vulnerable, afraid, and in danger, for the look in Riddle's eyes truly terrified her.

He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment from his pocket and showed her a copy of the same family tree that Borgin had kept so carefully and secretly in his shop. Anya saw her name unmistakably written in shining black ink. When she had gotten a long look at the proof of her noble lineage, he pocketed it and once more stared intensely into her eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It appeared that this room would become quite useful to him once more…

"How ironic it is that Gryffindor and Slytherin were enemies; if they could have only known then what their heirs would accomplish…" he trailed off. Anya shivered as his long fingers lightly grazed her face, pausing over her lips. He traced them slowly with his fingers.

"Together, Anya, we can rule the entire magical world. The power of two heirs is unstoppable. We will eliminate all who we deem unworthy: Mudbloods, filth, ignorance. Even the Muggles will know our power. In their world we were treated like dirt, forced to grow up in horrible conditions, thought of as freaks, bullied, our dreams crushed at an early age…we will make them pay," his eyes unmistakably flashed scarlet, Anya leapt up, her magical bonds were strangely broken; she had briefly overcome his magic with her own. She stared down at him with shock and disgust, her eyes glittering with fiery resolve.

"You're a monster," she spat, "You torture and kill…I would rather die than join you!" she yelled, her voice strong and determined. Tom looked at her with amusement, fascinated by her sudden bravery. This was no longer the meek, submissive Anya that he had become so accustomed to. She had to be put in her proper place. He stood up suddenly and before she could react, seized her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall. She cried out in shock and pain as stars danced before her eyes. He quickly pulled out his wand and jabbed it underneath her chin, pushing her face upwards to his. There was a loud flash of lightening, a deep rumble of thunder, and the intense sound of pouring rain as it hit the windows loudly. A violent storm had started; the ominous clouds that Anya had seen earlier had finally reached them.

"You _will_ serve me, Anya…whether you want to or not," he said coolly. He stared devilishly into her eyes. It was time for the snake to strike.

He forced his mouth down on hers. Her cry was muffled and she tried to close her lips against him. He seized her wrists painfully, bruising the soft skin. She cried out in pain, which allowed his tongue to plunge deeply into her mouth. Teeth and tongues scraped against each other and she struggled vainly against him. He continued downwards, licking her neck as he seized the front of her dress and tore it in half with a loud ripping noise. Anya screamed and struggled harder than ever against him, but he only moved closer, pressing himself against her, obstructing her breath and movements.

He pushed the dress off of her, his hands moving deftly until all other clothing was removed and she stood naked before him. He eyed her hungrily as she shivered with fear and coldness. Tom felt himself hardening, extremely aroused by her fear. He seized her arm and threw her onto the couch with a soft thud. Before she could move, he waved his wand and she became immobile once more. Anya was used to this spell by now and she could only lie there motionless as he began to slowly remove his clothing. He smirked as he revealed himself fully to her; her eyes widened in fear.

He climbed on top of her, his mouth claiming hers once more. He slid his cool hands from her stomach to her breasts, beginning to slowly touch and tease them. Anya tried to stifle a moan as he trailed his tongue from her cleavage up to her neck. Her body was betraying her; he was forcing her to react to his cruel touch. She whimpered as he took a nipple into his mouth and began to suck greedily. One hand trailed down her body, reaching her moistening core. Anya gasped as he rubbed and teased her without mercy. She felt unwanted wetness at her opening and her face burned in shame.

After what seemed like endless torture, he slid a long finger inside of her, forcing it in and out of her roughly. His touch was no longer gentle. He was deliberately hurting her, eventually adding another finger and slowly scraping them against her; this was her punishment for disobeying him. She cried out in pain and he harshly removed them, suddenly leaning in very close to her until she felt his breath on her ear.

"_You are mine, heir of Gryffindor," _he said in Parseltongue. Anya shuddered at the strange hissing noises. They seemed to reverberate within her; they turned her blood to ice. Then she screamed as she felt something long and hard invade her body.

His thrusts were quick and cruel; rough and selfish. Her back arched, the pain was sharp like a knife as she was forcefully stretched to accommodate Tom's large size. His moans were low and guttural; he was focused only on his own pleasure and dominance over the whimpering girl. His eyes burned into hers and he grinned evilly as he continued, their bodies slamming together.

He brought one hand down and began to rub her relentlessly. She gasped at the pleasurable sensations, shuddering as she felt him lick her neck. He did not stop his touch, and she began to feel pleasure at his thrusts as he penetrated her deeper than ever before. Their breathing became faster, their bodies moving in tandem. Anya was close to reaching her peak. She tried to resist him, tried to fight the unwanted pleasure, but to no avail.

Anya screamed as her forced orgasm ripped through her body. She convulsed and clenched around him. Tom gasped, shuddering as he spilled himself inside her. She felt his burning essence fill her up; she felt sick, dirty, and violated.

Their eyes met, the dark eyes above her gleamed scarlet…and the world dissolved around her into darkness.

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	7. CHAPTER 7: The Dream

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the slow update, but here it is, chapter 7! There is only 1 chapter left after this one. If you've read/reviewed so far, I want to thank you for sticking with the story and for the awesome feedback. I hope you guys have enjoyed it so far, and please review if you've read. Enjoy :)

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

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_CHAPTER 7: The Dream_

Time passed slowly. Anya often lost track of it. The minutes and hours faded into days and weeks. She was not aware of any particular time of day, for she never saw the sun. Her life was measured and controlled only by him. He had become her only world.

Each day felt like a year of her life had passed. Each day was filled with him and only him. Even when she didn't see him in person, he was always there, for he invaded her mind and dreams.

And still it wasn't enough for him.

Tom Riddle was forcing her to realize her magical abilities…but she could no longer call him that. He was Lord Voldemort, not Tom Riddle. He was evil.

He forced the magic from her through torture and fear, and yet he never laid a finger on her. There were no bruises or scars, no physical evidence of his cruelty. The damage was done on her psyche, her mind, and her sanity.

Every day was a new and terrible experiment. Lord Voldemort wanted the heir to be nearly equal to his abilities, but to never surpass him. In his mind, she had a lot of catching up to do, having lived as a Muggle her whole life. He had encountered very capable and powerful magic. Once she could control it, he would teach the heir of Gryffindor the Dark Arts himself, and together they would rule the magical world.

But the girl was not cooperating. She was hardly a willing student; she caused him much anger and frustration. Although her mind and body were his, her spirit was not. She refused to learn to control her magic, and would not give in to him as easily as he had expected. No progress had been made. Something inside her still made it possible to resist him; he attributed it to the foolish Gryffindor "morale".

In their most recent meeting, he had become so frustrated that he lost control and the girl blacked out after a particularly vicious assault on her mind. Now, he stood over her unconscious body, looking slightly panicked. He had not meant to go that far. If he had damaged her in any way…

Almost immediately, his expression changed and he glared at her motionless body in annoyance. He was being a fool. He, Lord Voldemort, was letting _her_ have power over him…she seemed to have more power over him than he had over her! Thoroughly aggravated, he decided he'd had enough for the day. He could have easily revived her and continued, but he didn't want to accidentally do something stupid as a result of his anger. He seized Anya's body from the floor, picked her up, and hurriedly carried her back to her room. He tossed her roughly onto the bed, turned on his heel, and slammed the door behind him without a glance back.

Meanwhile, Anya was having the most interesting dream…

*******

She was surrounded by a pale white glow. It hurt her eyes, for she hadn't seen much light for a long time. She could see nothing else around her, no scenery, or furniture, nor any other living creature. Yet somehow, she felt as if she was being watched.

"Hello?" she said softly. There was a slight echo; she heard her own voice answer her back before it faded away. There again was the feeling of being watched, but somehow, it felt as if those watching her meant no harm; perhaps they wanted to help her…

She found that she could move about easily. Anya tentatively took a few steps forward. She heard strange whisperings.

"Who's there?" she said slightly louder. There was a long pause.

"_Anya…_" said a soft female voice that she hadn't heard before. From the ground in front of her, strange tendrils of what looked like smoke began to rise. They twisted around each other, changing colors and growing taller each second until finally a whole figure materialized in front of her.

Anya gasped. The woman wore a robe so white and bright that it hurt her eyes. She was surrounded by a warm golden glow and appeared slightly blurred. She looked ethereal, like an angel. The woman smiled kindly at her.

"I knew we would meet eventually, Anya. Unfortunately, I also knew that we would only meet in the gravest of times…a time when nearly all hope was lost," She stared deeply into Anya's eyes. There was something so familiar about her…

"My name is Lydia Blackburn. I am your mother."

Anya stared at the woman before her. She too had long, wavy brown hair. Their features were nearly identical, the shape of her eyes and mouth were the same as hers, but she looked older, wiser, and her eyes were a bright blue. Suddenly, Anya began to cry. This was the first time she had ever seen her mother. There was so much she wanted to ask her, wanted to tell her, and she felt so overwhelmed.

Her mother pulled her into a warm embrace and began stroking her hair.

"Anya, you must listen to me. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to speak to you, as this is only your dream and you can be woken up from it any minute. I need to tell you something very important, something that will decide your fate," Anya looked up into her mother's face so much like her own. Her expression was anguished, as if she wasn't sure how she was going to explain this delicate situation to her daughter.

"The man who has imprisoned you is planning to use our compass for his own needs. He now plans to use it for something very evil indeed, Anya. For this reason, the compass must be destroyed," Anya gasped.

"I cannot do that, mother. It's the only evidence I have that you ever existed, the only proof that I have magic in my blood. It's kept me strong when times were difficult, and I know it's saved my life a few times," said Anya desperately. Lydia shook her head sadly.

"This is the way it must be. Only you, the heir, have the power to destroy the compass," she pulled back from her daughter and held her firmly by the shoulders. "Promise me, Anya, that you will do this."

There was a long silence as Anya looked into her mother's face. The seriousness of the situation was clear in her expression, and as she contemplated things, Anya found herself becoming increasingly apprehensive at the thought of what Tom Riddle had in store for the compass and for her. At last, she came to a decision.

"I promise, mother," she said with resolve. Her mother smiled warmly at her.

"Only a true descendent of Gryffindor would be so selfless. You have shown true courage and strength in your ordeal. I knew you would choose the right path, Anya," as her mother looked at her lovingly, Anya felt a warm happiness spreading throughout her entire being. It was the first time in her life that she truly felt loved and appreciated.

"Time is short, Anya, so please listen closely," she paused as Anya stared at her intently. "To put it simply, the compass can only be destroyed if the last descendant of Gryffindor no longer has a need for it."

"_What?_" said Anya in disbelief, "How could I not have a use for it if I don't know how it works?"

"Unfortunately, dear, I don't think there's anyone alive who truly knows how the compass works. Perhaps only Gryffindor himself knew, for as the compass was passed down through the generations, knowledge of its purpose and workings was lost, and soon it was considered nothing more than a fancy heirloom. I have my theories, however…"

"I believe that the arrow of the compass points in the direction of something that will benefit the holder. Perhaps something that will further their dreams or aspirations, or perhaps show them a path that will lead them to something good or beneficial to their goals."

"That makes sense," said Anya, "When I was with Aunt Hilda, the arrow pointed in many different directions. Perhaps my situation was so dreadful that any other place was better than _there_."

"Perhaps," said Lydia quietly, "But now is not the time to dwell on the past, Anya. Now as I said before, the compass can only be destroyed if you, the heir of Gryffindor, no longer have a need for it."

"But what does that _mean_, mother?" said Anya impatiently.

"Let me tell you my theory, Anya. As a man, Gryffindor valued courage, chivalry, respect, and selflessness. All around him, these qualities were looked down upon as unrealistic and foolish. I believe that he made this compass as a reminder that these qualities could be followed and valued. Although he made the compass with magical properties, I believe that by the end of his life, it worked for him as only a normal compass. This was because he did not need to further his goals or aspirations at that time, and he no longer had a need for material objects. He was entirely selfless. I'd imagine that for him, his goal was that his lineage would value selflessness as much as he did. Therefore, if his last descendant transcended the need for material goods, or the desire for their own personal gain, the compass would destroy itself, showing that the dream of Gryffindor was realized."

There was a long pause as Anya took everything in. For merely a theory, it all made perfect sense to her. And yet, something was still missing.

"But how can I show the compass that I've become selfless?" said Anya, feeling rather foolish at asking that question.

"At the right moment, Anya, you will know," said Lydia simply. Anya still wasn't satisfied, but to her disappointment, she felt as if the dream was ending. She was waking up.

"I know we will meet again very soon, my daughter. Remember this dream and what we have spoken of. Remember to use your head and your heart. Have courage. Do not be afraid of the unknown," and with these last cryptic words, her mother disappeared and everything before Anya faded into black. She opened her eyes slowly, the dark bedroom coming into focus.

Anya sat up in her bed, staring intensely at the door before her. She stretched, expecting to feel sore and worn out from her earlier meeting. However, Anya felt renewed and rejuvenated by her sleep. She had not felt so alive in such a long time. Unlike most dreams, this one remained clear in her mind and she knew she would not forget it easily. She began to form the plan, her path was clear before her. She would do it tonight.

*******

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle sat in his study, deeply engrossed in his own thoughts. Things were simply not working out. His experiments were fruitless, the girl was unwilling to learn, and he was no closer to figuring out how the compass worked than before. He was tired of wasting his time on something that seemed hopeless, and tired of constantly changing his plans, and tired of the lack of respect his Death Eaters were beginning to show him. They had begun to see weakness in him as a result of his obsession with Anya, and he felt as if a mutiny was not far away. Things would have to change…

Of course he had planned to use the compass as a Horcrux eventually, as it was a valuable artifact with great historical significance, but he did not yet know whose murder he would use to make it. He had hoped it would be someone significant, perhaps someone that both he and Anya had murdered together. But more and more, Tom's thoughts turned dangerously to the heir of Gryffindor. He stood up from his chair and began to pace about the room, immersed in some entirely new thoughts.

The girl was turning out to be more trouble than she was worth. He began to reconsider his current course of action. Did he truly want another heir alive? It not only diminished his title as the heir of Slytherin, but it also left open the possibility of his defeat. What if she was only pretending to be weak? What if she was planning his downfall at this very moment?

As his paranoia took over, Tom retrieved the compass from his pocket with shaking hands and began to obsessively toy with the golden chain. There would be no more of this nonsense. He would put an end to everything; the frustration, the whispers, the doubts. He would use the murder of the heir of Gryffindor to make the compass a Horcrux. This was a most significant murder indeed, more worthy than any other he could imagine. He would do it tonight.

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I'm sorry for the shortness of that chapter, but I hope you liked it, and I will post the final chapter here as soon as possible. Thanks for reading :)


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